


The Crown (Peaky Blinders)

by mariapls



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV), peaky blinders imagines - Fandom
Genre: 1930s, Blood and Violence, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Gangs, Gen, Murder, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24754111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariapls/pseuds/mariapls
Summary: The greatest weapon had just arrived in Small Heath and to Thomas Shelby's dismay, it didn't belong to him.He didn't know what it was, he didn't know where it was and there was only one thought that clung to the base of his skull, he was willing to shred his Crown in order to get it.
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story is loosely based on the Television series Peaky Blinders.  
> The characters will make a regular occurence, however some of their story line may be altered.  
> Please be aware the only character owned by me is: Veronica & Mary.

**‘It’s a small town, every one knows everybody,”**

The only problem with this statement was the great level of depth that came along with it…I should exaggerate for those who actually want to know that when it comes to Small Heath, the general population operated as if they were all born into the same barn.  
Once one person knew, every body did.

Exhibit A)  
Upon my arrival and the cutting of my engine, I take one step onto the cobbled streets and find the eyes of those around me to be observing me like I had been displayed in the window of the butchers shop.  
My attire that I dressed in often drew the curious eyes of men and the disgusted ones of women’s whilst the body beneath the material held it’s self wide and practically.  
Slamming the drivers side door, I approach the boot of the vehicle and greet my friend: Michael, who is assisting me with the move.  
“I see you already made some friends, Miss Ron,” He spoke, lifting out my suitcases.  
I snort at the comment before taking my key and opening my front door “If that’s what you refer to it as, sure, I have thousands,” I tease.

The fourth time I came out my front door, a man roughly around the age of 30 approached me; he tipped his hat in greeting before holding it against it his chest, which removed the shadows that covered his face.  
His face, much like the contrast of this small village presented itself in sot…not to mention their was a sheen of sweat that dusted his collarbone heavily “Good Morning love, mi’ name’s Charlie,”

Curiously, I look the man up and down but I don’t give anything away by keeping my facial expression blank “Hi,” I greet in response, taking a cigarette from the packet in my right pocket.

“I heard’ your new ‘ere and I wanted to introduce mi’self, am Charlie!”

He bowed quite pleasantly at the hip; again tipping his hat in greeting “You heard I was new, did you? That’s surprising... this is my second time here,” I say.

“Is’ a small town you see Miss, things travel quick!” He exclaims, moving to stand on his tiptoes whilst he spoke.

“No shit,” I mumble as Michael walks out of the house, his eyes quickly caught on our guest.

Dipping his hat politely also, he greeted Charlie before continuing on with his assistance.

Exhibit B)  
As I settled in, I found my feet wandering the streets for a food source and walked myself into the Butchers that was roughly about 200 yards away from my home – the bell above my head rang across the room and as my heels clicked onto the floor, the men in the queue turned to look at me.  
“Can I help you there, Missy?”  
The gentleman furthest from me asked this, his hands pulling his jacket tighter across his protruding stomach.  
It lead them all to laughter and I visibly cringe “Let’s not embarrass ourselves too much sweetheart, we all know you wouldn’t be able to,” I retort, standing in front of them.

“Now, am I going to be served or must I go elsewhere?” I ask the butcher, who is emitting pure befuddlement.  
“Charlie says you’re new around here,” He retorts and I can’t help but smile “Well, you aren’t wrong!”

And so on.  
However, Exhibit C, I am entirely responsible for.  
Let me make a long, very bloody story, short: my front door was broken and a collection of men interrupted me reading my morning paper; my kitchen was made a large mess off (cleanliness is exceptionally important to me), they bled onto my carpet and my sofa and now 5 humans are all lying lifeless in my cellar.

Leaning again the kitchen stove, with a warm cuppa in my hands, I bring my right foot over my left and let my ankle sit on my right foot “This seems to be a common occurrence whenever I visit new locations,” I mumble before continuing “Not to mention this is going to be a nightmare to clean up!” I groan, staring at the long thick streak of blood that fell from the kitchen door to the back.


	2. Reputation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An introduction to Veronica and her friend Mary, as well as an insight to the game that is the Peaky Blinders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a re-posting of chapters 1 & 2 which are now both merged together.  
> I have added additional parts, more dialogue and better structure as I felt previously I could have done better. Please free feel to comment and let me know your thoughts, it is all incredibly appreciated.  
> Please enjoy!
> 
> Trigger warning: the following chapter consists of violent scenes, blood, physical abuse and death.

The smoke that came from my chimney pot was a little thicker than usual this morning, mainly because I needed to get to work and it seemed easier at the time to throw two bodies in rather than one.  
In an attempt at making conversation with my new neighbours, I began to make jokes about how I was sharing company with 3 other people, but after the third time, it started to shed the humour. It was also curious to me how nobody asked for specifics.  
Yet, here I was dressed in my dregs, gloves touching the inner corner of my elbows whilst I forced an entire thigh into the fire stove. Undisturbed.

As I locked the stove door I remove my gloves before moving and making my way upstairs, where I hear a forceful knock come from my front door “Just a second!” I shout.  
Shutting the door and pulling across the latches to secure it, I slide across the bookcase that covered the entrance to the cellar before making my way to the front door; as I approach I notice immediately who it is “Ronnie!” Mary chimes, her voice squeaking out in pleasure as she takes in my presence.

“Mary, hi, please come in and excuse my current attire…I’ve had to do the dirty work this morning!” I announce, opening my arm and pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

Politely, Mary cleaned her feet on the mat beneath her before gracefully strutting into the kitchen where she pulls out the chair nearest to her “Oh Ronnie, you wouldn’t believe it, their protesting in the streets! Demanding jobs!” 

Although Mary and I were worlds away when it came to our personal interests, the level of kindness and loyalty she emitted was enviable, making it semi-tolerable when it came to her bumbling gossip that slipped out every Monday when she approached my doorstep.  
“What is honestly worse than not having a job, than yelling about it!” She cried, placing her bag onto the kitchen table in fury. 

“Cuppa?” I offer.  
She lets out a huff of air before crossing her arms and lying them on her stomach “Oh go on love, please.”

Filling the kettle, I set it aside before clicking on the gas and lighting a match; sending a flicker of smoke into the air, I place the kettle onto the gas ring to then grab two cups as well as a teapot “Not to mention that bloody husband of mine has joined in.”

Truthfully I can’t help but let out a laugh in response and thankfully, Mary takes it with a pinch of salt.  
I then turn to her wearing my largest smile and take the seat opposite her “Mary both you and I know the protests won’t pass today, the only time this village has any motivation is when they have a pint in their hand.”

Laughter erupts from Mary in a delightful way and for a moment it makes me proud, but then I get up and put a stop to the loud whistling kettle, forgetting the moment entirely “He had another melt down yesterday you know, Harry.”

Mary commented, cutting the atmosphere with what appeared to feel like a cheese grater “What happened this time?” 

I continued to make the tea, the steam from the kettle erupting over my face and causing some minor discomfort “He barged into the living room around tea time, looking like he’d jumped in the canal and all I could hear was how I couldn’t help save his fellow soldier,” She whined sadly before continuing “Put pressure on the wound! Were going to fucking die’ All at the top of his lungs Ronnie!”

She pauses again, sucking in a long loud breath before bringing her right hand to her forehead “Ron, if he doesn’t stop they’ll put a fuckin’ bullet in his brain!” She exclaimed, tears now forming on the line of her eyelids. 

Turning around, I place the teapot in the centre of the table and the cups in front of us before pouring a generous amount into both “Mary I know you’ll not like me saying this but there isn’t anything you can do! You’ve talked to him already and all he did was hit you, what if next time he kills you?” I say. 

“But what if I approach it a little more gently?” She suggests, her eyes showing a great deal of eagerness.

My shoulders fall, causing the cup that I had lifted to release some of its contents “Well be aware, he can’t approach gently with a punch,” I say bluntly.  
She groans in great defeat and slumps back into the chair “I hate this Ronnie, I hate all of this!”

Sighing loudly and rubbing the area above my brows with my forefinger and thumb, I suggest a solution “Why don’t you and I head to The Garrison this evening? Just us two and we can relax…”

The suggestion causes Mary’s eyes to go two sizes bigger and like a child receiving an ice cream, she launches herself at me to say thanks “Oh Ron, I’d love that. Plus it gives a reason for me to wear my new dress I bought the other weekend!” She brags. 

I push her softly at her shoulders before waving her away, I push her softly at her and kindly, she removes her body from me before gathering herself “Now excuse me, I have to go and get ready for work! You finish your tea alright?” I announce, taking my cup with me as I head upstairs. 

Arriving to my room, I start to strip away my dirty dregs, tossing them onto the bottom half of the bed and as I slid on fresh clothing, Mary shouts up the stairs “What about you Ronnie? What are you going to wear to The Garrison?” 

I scrunch my eyebrows at the question “My plan is to wear clothes, Mary,” I tease her before continuing “I have no plans to go naked no matter how much the men of Small Heath may enjoy that!”

I make quick work of getting dressed, mainly because as soon as I answer her, her footsteps can be heard clattering against the stairs.  
Bursting into a flurry of excitement, she jumps towards me “What if we go to the shops, after work that is?”

Before pulling on my black trench coat, I tighten the waistcoat around my upper body and knot together the buttons “As much as you wish for me to say yes, the earliest I will get out today is 6. I have a meeting with someone I’m afraid.”  
In a loud huff, Mary plonks herself on the edge of my bed, her movement causing the frame to squeak loudly “But Ronnie, you never go shopping with me!”

I roll my eyes at her comment before retorting “Both you and I know very well that your guilt tripping is needless, so give over. Now come on, I’ll drop you off at the flower shop.”

With hunched shoulders Mary follows me down the steps and out the front door, a visible pout on her lips and as I take out my key and click the lock into place, I hear an array of wolf whistles coming from men as they sail past behind me.  
I don’t smile in response; instead I calmly make my way to the driver’s side of my vehicle and notice when climbing in that Mary’s cheeks are flourished “Don’t let Henry see you behaving like that!” I tease again, slamming the door shut. 

Opening the drop down, I take out my leather gloves before pulling them on and bringing the car to life “Oh please, I saw him walking in the direction of the docks with Ben as I left this morning. He wouldn’t notice if a pig started walking the streets, would our Henry!”  
Mary fell into a fit of laughter at this image and I couldn’t help but join her before removing the break and driving away.

As I drove around the edge of the block that hosts my house, we notice the general population of our stained village starts to fall out of their humble abodes, joining the paths to work or the road to justice.  
Then as quickly as I can, I pass the large crowds circling the town hall and drop of Mary who tells me she will meet me at my house at exactly 6:30pm. 

As I continue my drive and make my way to the main office, I watch in fondness as activity starts to take place and signs in shop windows are flipped to open.  
It was mostly smoggy across the village of Small heath, which explained why most people often walked to where they needed to go. It was only when you reached the outskirts did the view clear and a sense of clarity could be seen entering your mind.  
Then as easily as I smiled, I frown as two men wobble into the street and as one of them vomits, another man lays in it “Fucking hell,” I grumble in distaste.

To my great relief, I soon pull into a side street and tuck my car away at the back of what appears to be an abandoned warehouse - approaching the back door which is situated at the left side of the building, I bash my foot against the steel in greeting, which causes a gap to appear around shoulder height.

“Name?” A burly voice demands.

“Ronnie,” I retort, lifting my eyes to meet the ones that had appeared in said gap.

I watch as the stranger’s eyes narrow, causing wrinkles to crease his eyelids and lower his eyebrows… then quickly, he slid the cover shut.  
Certain clicks could be heard behind the door before it was opened; walking inside, a shield of darkness falls over me as one man grabs both of my arms “Not brought anything curious, have you Miss Ronnie?”

Despite the fact I couldn’t see his face, I knew it was George holding me; since 1915 our boss was a creature of habit, one that George crawled into.  
Our Boss could only trust two people in his entire company and like a bitch herding his sheep; George fell into this position with each passing year. 

“I never do Mr Baines,” I answer, raising my hands so that my elbows fell in line with my shoulders.  
Patting me down, I felt George’s hand cover my legs, stomach, breasts as well as my bum in an eager search and as always he finishes disappointed, shoving me forward quite harshly to display the emotion further.

“Boss wants a word with you,” He informs me.

Smiling to myself, I walk down the corridor before making a right where I fall into an occupied mass of people who were scrambling in an organised manner; men of all sizes yelled back and forth, as the smoke that fell from their mouths formed above me, creating a hazy fog. 

What I referred to the office was very much a steel cased structure wearing a tin can suit; the outside exterior consisted of masses of grey bricks, with the occasional window that allowed you to peak in. Where as on the inside, the bricks were the only thing covering the red steel frame, that held the building together.

As my shoulders were hit this way and that, I weave in an out of the lined desks as I make my way across the width of the building, where I arrive at a large room with blacked out windows.  
(Again a tin can suit, only smaller)

Knocking only once, a strangled voice calls out that I can come in and as I go to enter, I feel a body hit the other side of the door, shoving me backwards “Christ,” I mumble.

Forcing myself into the room, I see two men; both of them appear guilty but only one is covered in blood “Morning,” I shrug off my coat, before placing myself into the chair that lay opposite the other.

“I see you’ve met our guest!” The boss Edward announces whilst rolling up the cuffs of his white shirts.

Truthfully, Edward was incredibly pleasant to look at.  
He reached the height of 5ft 9 and despite the fact his shoulders were incredibly wide, his arms lay snug beside him when he walked.  
He always had a small knife in the pocket of his left jacket, whilst his silver flask (which he had his initials engraved into) remained constantly on show in the chest pocket of every blazer he wore.  
It was just a pity that the organ he carried between both ears consisted of nothing but air.

In the momentary pause Edward had provided, our guest bent over and took in a great breath and as I turned to sneak a look, I was faced with a mound of curls “No, I’m afraid I haven’t,” I say truthfully.  
Whilst turning away from him, Edward takes his momentarily clean fist and lands an upper cut immediately on his nose, causing blood to dribble down the young boys shirt and onto his trousers, whilst his head flung backwards “This ‘ere is a Peaky Blinder!”

As he informed me of this, Edward tossed his left arm over the boys shoulder before using his elbow to lure him closer “Found him sneakin’ around the back, where you put your car!” 

I bring my forefinger and thumb to the area above my brows again and rub gently, nurturing the slow developing headache “If you wish for me to kill him, please hurry up and tell me so,” I say, before pulling out a cigarette that sat in the right hand pocket of my coat. 

“No!” He shouts loudly, throwing up his hands to display his emotion further “Not-fucking-yet!”

Landing yet another punch on the young boy whilst I brought the lighter to my cigarette, I inhale and try to relax whilst they toss their bodies and lurch each other around the office, causing the cabinets to fall as well as the photos that hung on the walls.

“Oh fer’ christ sake! Sit down!” I scream, standing to my feet.

Taking the Peaky’s neck with my right hand, I yank him backwards to separate him from Edward and as I do so, another spurt of blood comes out of both of them; as they collided into the coat rack only moments ago, it seemed the peaky found his cap along with the razor wedged inside it.  
Edward now had an inch deep slice starting at the corner of his right eye to the middle of his cheek “Fuckin’ idiots!” I mumble to myself, keeping a tight hold on the young boy.

This was now the perfect opportunity to gather a look at the young man; his curls dominated his upper head whilst his brown eyes sunk quite deep into his face, not to mention his freckles dusted the lower half of his jaw bone. He couldn’t have been more than 20.

Taking the upper hand, Edward made his way to the corner of his office where his whiskey bottles stood and graciously, he poured himself a large glass, to then take his seat and forcefully, I make the boy do the same, plonking him in the spot I had previously been.

“Is this what you wanted to see me for?” I ask, finally releasing the boy and folding my arms.

Opening a draw in his desk, Edward took out a white hanker chief before dragging it along his face and removing the majority of the blood, leaving only streaks and splodges “Personally, I was hoping you would have gotten here quicker,” He hissed, taking a large gulp from his glass. 

“What’s ya name?” I ask, turning to the boy who was now slouched into the fold of the chair. 

He doesn’t answer straight away and then I realise he won’t answer at all; that is until, I force my fingers around the nerves in the back of his neck and squeeze so forcefully, he screams out his name “Finn! It’s fucking Finn.”

“Took your fuckin’ time, didn’t you!” Edward spat, launching a paperweight at his forehead.  
Ducking out of its direction, Finn attempts to launch himself from the chair but annoyingly (to him) I hold him down “What were you doing at the back of our building?” I ask Finn directly, leaning onto the front of the desk to block out Edward. 

You can see when I ask Finn this that he contemplates not answering again but as he straightens his back, he makes a show of pulling away his neck from my hovering hand, which sits around my hip “I was just curious…”

“Just curious, ay?” Edward poked and I noticed in my peripheral vision, he necks the rest of his beverage before standing up to get another. 

“I really don’t believe you,” I say, turning around to grab the freshly poured glass “And, if you want to get out of this building alive, I suppose you tell me the truth.”

Taking a sip of the drink, the liquid falls down my throat creating a smokey after taste that makes its way back up and hits the roof of my mouth where it hangs around “Good stuff,” I say to Edward, holding up the glass as if to say cheers. 

“My brothers will come looking for me if I’m away too long ya know?” Finn snaps back, his fingers wrapping around the chairs armrests.

Edward snorts in response before snatching his beverage back “No they wont,” I tell Finn and instantly, he sees that I am not joking.  
Grabbing my coat, I sling it on before lifting Finn upwards with the back his blazer “Come on, let’s go for a walk sweet heart!”

Finn tries to deny the offer but again, my hand clasps around his neck and I drag him out the office; this minor action causes all the men in the main office to hold their mouths, creating a silence that could have made his blood run dry.  
Making our way to the exit, men begin to launch beverages and masses of items in Finn’s direction, causing him to duck and audibly announce his pain.  
It’s only when we hit the corridor, does he collapse against the wall in front of me to gather his bearings “Not used to this yet, are we sweetie?”

“Fuck you!” He spits loudly. 

I tut audibly before laughing quite loudly in response and as I lean against the wall in front of him, my right knee bent with my foot against the wall, I allow him rest “Don’t worry about it little one, I remember doing my first job at 13 and I landed my self at the bottom of a canal in Cambridge. I had to take the bus home and my Dad hit me hard when he found out,” I tell him.

For a moment Finn looks up at me, his mouth opening in pants and I wonder if he believes me or not “Come on, let’s get you home,” I tell him, offering my hand to him, which he hesitantly takes.  
As we make our way to the exit, my hand still on the back of Finn’s neck, we pass George who is perched on a wooden chair, his eyes holding Finn “Your scum, you little arsehole!” He yells loudly.

“Charming,” I mumble.

Keeping us moving until we were outside and near the safety of my vehicle, I instruct Finn to get inside before I shrug off my jacket and hop in also “Where do you want dropping off?” 

Looking at me questionably, Finn wedges himself into the corner of the passenger seat, making it appear as if he wants to fall out the window “The betting shop, please.”

We sit in silence for the remaining journey whilst Finn glances at me every now and again, a look of curiousness erupting his features…it’s only when we pull up outside his home does he turn to me “You haven’t killed me yet, why?”

Turning of the engine, I lean back and cross my arms, letting them rest over the tops of my legs “I don’t believe in killing young ones, not to mention you got what you deserved,” I tell him truthfully before continuing “I don’t need to tell you this but you’ve been part of the fucking game a long time now…snoop all you want just don’t get caught. Or next time, I’ll hang you in my closet.”

He doesn’t respond, instead he nods and swallows before opening the door and getting out. 

* * 

You’ve probably heard a multitude of times that silence was much worse than the roaring screams of man and this fell true because silence could withhold information that no mouth could whisper.  
That statement became applicable when I returned to the main office and George was stood in front of me with his arms folded whilst his lips curled in a grimace.  
“Gallows, now,” He announced. 

I don’t utter any disappointment, instead I keep my facial expression blank and begin on my way; The Gallows were located on the left side of the building, meaning you had to wander between the aisles of desks that littered the office floor, before turning left at the half way point and walking the entire length of the building.  
Not to mention you always knew you had arrived when you reached the second pair of sliding doors because when they opened, they released a puddle of red.  
“For fuck sake,” I groan.

As the red liquid covered the toe of my boots, I take a lungful of untainted air before stepping inside and clipping the door shut.  
The room was currently filled with every employee of Edwards and they all stood in a semi circle, their fists pumping in the air whilst their mouths launched verbal abuse at whoever was standing at the front.  
I had only been absent for an hour, yet in such short time it appeared a small massacre had occurred; blood flicked the walls as if someone had tried painting them with it, whilst some internal organs lingered in the corners, piling up like rubbish.

Edwards pride and unique selling point (his chosen words) emitted from his vile taste in sadism as well as his lust for brutality. When it came to The Gallows, it became not just a moment for justice but also a spectacle, a moment to brag of his supposed invincibility.  
Like a school report card, Edward visibly declared and boasted of those he killed; he ranked each victim of his by pain tolerance, inability to speak as well as arrival and death dates. It became a competition for him.  
Other people showed their wealth via finery, whilst Edward declared it by number of bodies. 

As I pushed through the ranting crowd, a clash of elbows struck me in the side as well as my head, catching my ribs and lungs in the midst before finally, arriving at the front of the crowd.  
The Gallows platform stretched from one side of the building to the other and the crane, which held the nooses, dangled two men over the right hand side.  
One of them had their head partially ripped at the bottom of the neck, which made it look like he was simply dangling from his windpipe, whilst the other still remained alive, his hands and feet twitching as he openly wretched, begging for air. 

You didn’t interrupt Edward when he was like this; in the time I had been working for him, many people had already learned that the hard way. Some employers begged for others, whilst screaming for their innocence…it all ended with them being dead and if they were buried, it was considered lucky. 

“Gentleman, gentleman! Don’t have any hesitation, the show is not over yet!” Edward roared, as he walked back and forth on the platform.

If the suit Edward was wearing were black, you couldn’t tell; his garments were so heavily stained and soiled, it was difficult to tell where his shirt ended and where his trousers started… it was only his un-buttoned t-shirt that revealed his upper chest that gave a sense he was wearing anything at all.  
“I am glad to announce that our next victim is surely to be our favourite; merely an hour ago another of his kind had the audacity to step foot on our grounds and I let him go!” He screeched, pointing upwards with his right forefinger. 

The crowd answered him with a booming cry, causing the steel walkway above me to shake violently “But fear not! This man won’t see the light of the bleedin’ day! For he shall receive a lesson that was only seen in war!”

As he said this, a door opened to the right and three men made their way to the platform and up the stairs; clasped in the middle, a man who looked like he’d been dragged through sheer hell, limply hung from two sets of arms and as he was brought to Edwards feet, my boss delivered a swift right kick to his jaw. The crowd cried out in cheers.

“This here gentlemen is a blinder!” Edward screamed, wiping the blood of his shoe with a hanker chief. 

Those who stood around me launched into a blur of disarray; like a mother feeding her wolves, the men around me started to scramble with each other, declaring who the prisoner belonged to more whilst Edward looked on, his grin wide. 

“Yes gentleman, don’t be alarmed! Each and every one of you will receive a turn! Each and everyone of you will be able to show this devil” He points his arm towards the prisoner before continuing “That his dirty work will not proceed between these four walls.”

George who usually took a stand at the office’s entrance, was now pacing in front of the crowd, doing nothing more than scowling at every individual and it’s only when he passes me, watching as I stand completely still, does he emit a very large smile.  
It causes my stomach to almost turn and I distract myself by grabbing the man next to me: Christopher, who is currently soaked in sweat “What do you wa-Oh Ronnie! Hullo”

“What happened Christopher, I’ve been gone a pissing hour!” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

“George caught all three of them trying to smuggle a package into the delivery dock just after you left; once we got it open, we saw it was explosives,” He informed.  
The continues bumping from others around us was starting to slowly grate on me and I knew if I didn’t vanish soon, I was going to do something I was going to regret.

“Wait, so are they all peakys or what?” I ask curiously.  
Chris just shrugs his shoulders “The one on the right wasn’t! Eddie didn’t really give him a chance to explain; he just wrapped the rope around his neck and started swinging. He’s called ‘arry though, that one on the ground.”

Without another word Christopher turned away and began the rambunctious shouting again and as I watch him become lost in the sound of hungry men, I glance onto the stage and see that Edward now had a knife.  
Gleefully, he started to swing it around as if he were a mere child innocently playing with a stick; although the difference here was vastly evident because with every swing, he pressed the blade into the peaky’s back, causing blood to flicker along the side walls.  
A yelp emitted with every strike and because the warehouse was vast and mostly hollow, the sound echoed back round, circling not once but twice. It was like somebody was recording his pleas and playing them back. 

Gradually in due time, the wooden platform turned a murky brown and the yelps of the man turned to begging’s cries which slowly started to bother me; taking this as an initiative, I start to make my way backwards, my ribs re-introduced to the elbows of strangers and as my hands grabbed the handles which clung to the sliding doors, Edward shouts above all “Leaving so soon, Ronnie?” He chimed, causing the odd pair of eyes to look in my direction.  
I don’t respond, nor do I even attempt to give him eye contact.  
Instead I step over the poisonous threshold and into the darkness where my sense of emotions becomes a distant memory.

* 

My day finishes as it always did…with a gun in my hand and the chamber empty.  
At around 2:00PM, I was given a job to lead on the outskirts of Birmingham and sadly it was more difficult to deal with then I had anticipated; instead of being a matter of conversation, it evolved into a demonstration of military operation. This also meant that I missed the meeting I should have had with Edward at 5.  
He’s gonna bollock me for that, I thought. 

That was another of Edwards annoying qualities; he very often forgot to disclose how many the party involved. Currently, he was trying to get a hold over London and in order to wedge his foot into the door, it meant making pleasantries with a man named: Darby Sabini.  
For a while, there was an inkling of success because Edward’s brutality caused Sabini to fear him, but this was dismissed when Darby started making connections with certain police officials.  
Today’s meeting simply consisted of me meeting Sabini and the subject was a matter of forming a tie between ourselves and him but upon arrival, I was severely ambushed by not only one of his gangs, but another who operated under the name Alfie Solomon.  
It became apparent that Sabini wanted nothing to do with Edward but accordingly; Sabini had broken a promise to Alfie regarding Epsom, thus resulting in the attack.

It meant that currently, I was standing by a piece of wooded area that led to a small lake yet the sight was no longer picturesque due to the 15 bodies that lay strewn everywhere, blood pooling beneath them.  
As the pebbles beneath me caused my weight to shift unpredictably, I slowly dragged a dead man by his left foot before adding him to the pile of several men that I had lumped against the bottom of an oak tree.  
Wiping the sweat of my forehead with my right sleeve, I inhale a large breath before placing my hands on my hips “They couldn’t have killed these guys in a nice neat circle could they?” I moaned, allowing my eyes to roam elsewhere.  
Usually I wouldn’t be so careless when it came to disposing bodies but as they were so many and as I was already short on time (not to mention, Mary was going to be shocked when I arrived home wearing a suit that was utterly soaked in blood) I retrieved the small tank of fuel from my car and doused every visible inch of pale skin.  
Placing the empty container into the back of my vehicle, I grab the box of matches that live in my drop down and I pull out a small wooden stick, one after another and then strike. 

Gradually the small emblems of orange greatened in size and rather abruptly the smell of burning flesh hits the air causing me to lift the hem of my blouse over my nose; by the time I was done, it appeared to be a terrible game of dot to dot and as I waited and watched to see the men’s faces shift into a pile of butter, I bid myself a job well done before climbing inside my car and beginning my journey back to Small Heath.  
Fortunately, it only takes me 40 minutes to get back home however despite the fact I was only 15 minutes later than I anticipated (It was now 6:45), I still arrived to a very disgruntled looking Mary who on my arrival aims to scowl before she see’s my full attire.

“Jesus Ronnie! What the hell happened?” 

Immediately Mary began to fuss over me, her pristine white gloves feathering above my body as if it were made of glass “Please, don’t worry!” I say batting away her hands before reaching for my key.  
“Don’t fuckin’ worry? Ronnie, you’re covered from head to toe in blood! In what world am I supposed to not?” She battered me, following me as I entered my home and removed my now very brown looking shoes.

“Long story short there was a mishap at work, now please excuse me whilst I go change…unless you want me to go to the Garrison like this?” I ask, opening my arms as I turn to face Mary. 

A true look of mortification erupts on Mary’s face and I can’t help but giggle before she takes her bag and hits my shoulder with it “I’ll be right back then.”  
Leaping up the stairs, I dash to my room before quickly removing my soiled clothes and replacing them with fresh ones – despite the amount of bloodshed that was caused, the only parts of me that appeared bloodied are my fingers, so with ease, I pour the fresh water from my jug into the bowl that was stationed in the right corner of my room.

As I roll up my white sleeves, Mary appears in the door way and gives me a very serious once over “What now?” I ask, rolling my eyes visibly at her.

She folds her arms whilst smiling wildly before speaking “If you aren’t going to change out of those dam suits, you should at least wear your hair down!” She announced.

From day to day I would often wear my long chestnut locks in a small up-do; a lot of the time I wanted unhindered movement, not to mention dried blood clumped your hair together and it was painful task to separate at the end of the day. 

As I slid my fingers together in the water, ridding my skin of the stains of blood, Mary came up behind me and removed the pin that was holding my style in place and like a ribbon loose in the wind, layers of hair fell in a swooping motion.  
“If women of small heath saw the length of your locks, there would be a protest,” Mary admired, letting her fingers brush through the texture easily.  
“How about half up and half down? You know how frustrated I get with those little wispy bits!” I say, in hope to meet her halfway.

In front of the water jug and bowl stood a mirror and as I checked my hands for any remaining blood, my eyes catch Mary in it and as her fingers work my hair elegantly, I see the look of something more in her eyes “If you had a daughter, I swear you’d never let her hair go untouched; she’d walk outside each day, her hair on a runway of it’s own.”  
The comment makes Mary flush and slowly a smile appears on her face “I still hope Harry wants to have a little girl some day, it would be perfect.” 

The atmosphere goes quiet now and as I grab the towel that lays beside the bowl, I feel a sense of sadness fall from Mary “Come on, lets go to The Garrison, no more time wasted!”  
Like a switch had been flicked on, a smile erupted on Mary’s face and with some final checks in the mirror, I grab a clean coat from my wardrobe and make my way out of the house, along with her.

As I lock my front door, a cool chill erupts over the both of us, so after I sling on my coat, Mary hooks her arm around mine and we make our way forward.

“So then Miss Ronnie, what exactly was this mishap at work you mentioned?”  
It was the way that Mary asked this which gave me the impression that not only was she teasing, but knew immediately that what I was spitting was completely false.  
It wasn’t very strange of me to not confirm things...in all the time myself and Mary had been friends, at no point had I actually confirmed my occupation. In fact I hardly confirmed anything and upon our first couple of meetings, she found it incredibly irritating.

“Alright miss, I get it, you don’t believe me,” I say, bumping her shoulder with mine before continuing “But in truth, there was actually a mishap at work, just not your ordinary one is all,” I admit. 

“Is it why you always carry a gun, because of work?” She questions, looking towards me. 

I shake my head “No, although work doesn’t help me decrease the amount I use it, the reason I carry it is because I may need it due to some of the places I have to go.”

A look of pure intrigue develops on Mary’s face and I smile at it, yet before she can respond with another question, we arrive at The Garrison and politely I open the door for her and follow her in.  
As per usual the pub was heaving and already, shouts and excited laughter erupted at every corner; with her arm still hooked around mine, I lead both Mary and I to the bar where Harry greets us, his hands sliding a tea towel round a small whiskey glass “Evenin’ ladies, what can I get you?” 

“I’ll have a Pickford please,” I answer before Mary followed with her own order “Same.”

Nodding in approval to us, Harry turned his back to us before shouting over his shoulder that he would bring our order over.  
Gladly, we both removed our coats and made our way to one of the many booths, that stretched across the right side of the building “Is there any particular reason that young boy over there is eyeing you up?” Mary questioned, nodding her head to the right.

As you entered The Garrison, to your immediate right there was a small room that was made purposefully for discussing business, however it appeared the Peaky Blinders only ever used it. Or were allowed to use it, I should say.  
Currently though, three Peaky’s sat inside, one of them being Finn, the young boy I assisted not so long ago and frustratingly, he was doing nothing to hide his obvious stares.  
I rub my forehead with my left hand and as I bring it back down to the table Harry places our drinks in front of us “Thank you,’’ Both Mary and I say in unison.

“I wouldn’t give it too much thought Mary; he ran into my boss this morning after causing him some trouble and I got him off the hook. That’s all,” I tell her truthfully.

Mary was currently twiddling her glass with her forefinger and thumb but after confessing this to her, her movements stop and her eyes struck me “You, you helped that boy,” 

I nod before continuing “The boss would have shot him if I hadn’t…I was-”  
Before I could continue, a tall burly man approached our table and arrogantly, he puffed out his chest before knotting together his gloved hands and announcing his greeting “Good Evening Ladies.”

It was Thomas Shelby and Mary had a look of pure terror on her face.

Taking a sip of my drink, I release a pleasant sigh before placing the glass back onto the wooden surface “Good evening” I say in retort.  
Finally, I lift my eyes to meet Mr Shelby’s and surprisingly, his are already looking in my direction and as I hold his stare, I realise his irises are much like blue granite.  
“I was wondering if it were at all possible to join you this evening,” He questions, removing his flat cap and placing it onto his chest. 

“More the merrier, I suppose” I say monotone.  
Sliding my drink across the table, I shift my body along side the quilted couch and quietly, Mr Shelby makes him self comfortable; firstly by removing his coat and handing it to one of his men that stood aside him, then by placing his drink on a doily that was taken from another table, and finally, seating himself across from Mary who still hadn’t removed her fearful expression. 

As he sits down Mr Shelby places his hands onto the table before folding them neatly into each other and almost intrusively, he takes in Mary’s appearance before speaking “You must be Mary, Harry Smith’s wife,”

Mary physically swallowed aloud before taking her drink and almost inhaling the entire beverage; releasing a loud breath of air as she releases the glass, she attempts to look at Mr Shelby but finds her eyes immediately fall to the space in front of her “Yes Mr Shelby, I am.” 

“Excellent, excellent.”

Mr Shelby offers Mary what I think is a small smile before taking a sip of his own drink and turning to me; immediately the smile falls and it appears that nervously, Thomas pulls on the sleeves of his white shirt “You must be who they call Ronnie, am I correct?”

“You know my name?” I ask, almost smugly.

He pulls on the cuffs of his sleeves again “I know every one’s name in this town.”  
I raise my eyebrow in question or maybe it’s a mockery because I curl one side of my lip upside “Every one’s?” I repeat, letting the word roll of my tongue like a marble. 

He loudly hums in response before leaning to his left as one of his men wished to whisper something in his ear – nodding quietly, he lets out a chuckle when the whispering is finished and easily, he sits straight once more and takes another sip of his whiskey. 

“It’s included in the job title, I suppose,” He admits, finally turning to face me whilst lifting his left leg over his right.  
I leave my expression blank but I ensure my facial muscles remain soft; I wish for no interpretation from him “And what is your title Mr Shelby?” 

I have all his attention now and for a moment I almost become frozen…that is until a crowd of men burst through the pub’s door and cause a roar of laughter and frustration to erupt “What would you like my title to be?”  
Mr Shelby hands me this question with such daring delicacy, I have to register I heard the words correctly.  
It’s like he’strying to outmanoeuvre me, or something, I thought.

“Do you ask me because you do not know, or do you ask because you think I acknowledge you enough to care?”  
I don’t know if my response is correct but I feel Mary scoot closer to me and she shifts her hand into mine beneath the table. 

Perhaps it’s how nonchalantly I deliver my words but Mr Shelby smiles meaningfully in response and I see that it catches him off guard because quickly, he scoops up his glass and gulps the whiskey down in one, instantly demanding another. 

“You care enough to save one of my men,” He spits out, taking his eyes elsewhere.  
Mary squeezes my hand now and for a moment, I think she wants me to be quiet but the look in her eyes tells me otherwise.

“I cared to save a young boy, nothing more. It doesn’t matter who they belong to,” I answer, now too finishing my drink. 

“He remembers your name.”

“Everybody does.”  
I say this without evaluating the repercussions and for a temporary moment, I regret it, so in response I watch Mr Shelby’s every move; the way he drags his left thumb across his lower lip, how he bows his chin and tilts his head to the side and how when he’s thinking his movements become calculated and for a moment, he operates slower where his eyelids stay closed longer and his breaths don’t fall out of his mouth at all.  
My regret immediately fades because he does nothing. For a while he doesn’t even respond but it doesn’t bother me. 

“Finn doesn’t go so far as to even attempt to remember his mother but he has given you a minute of his day to recall your name,” Thomas tells me, rather snappishly. 

This time I raise one eyebrow and follow with a question “And what Mr Shelby, do you wish for me to say to that?”  
I tip my empty glass towards my mouth, in hope that I get the remaining dregs of liquid that lingers at the bottom “You don’t have to say anything, my greeting you tonight is me acknowledging your actions in good light.” 

I watch as a look of pure disgust falls on Mary’s face and before I can stop her, she strikes her blow “Excuse me, Mr Shelby but if you’re not here to thank my friend then what are you here for?”

What Mary didn’t know (And hopefully never would) was that there was always a game to play when it came to power.  
If you thanked too many people, you appeared weak. If you offered too many pleasantries, you were seen as soft.  
A gun never got you killed but kindness did.

It’s a small town! Every body knows everybody.  
Mr Shelby was smart enough to know that when people saved his men they talked but it was the people who talked, that gave him the greatest reputation.  
Yet the most unforgiving question, which posed the greatest threat, was: How will he respond?  
Thomas Shelby had articulated a plan, a business plan that he installed which resulted in people fearing him…he made people see his presence as something to be thankful for.  
This was the secret formula to every powerful man and the greatest touch on their ego. 

Mr Shelby was now holding Mary with an intense look and as Mary realised the words had come out of her mouth and not mine, her pink cheeks dissipated.

“It appears Mrs Smith doesn’t agree with your ways Mr Shelby,” I commented, eyeing him with a rueful smile.

Painfully slow, his eyes leave Mary and fall back onto me “It would seem so.”

My eyebrow remains raised and visibly, I look to Mary beside me and see that she is now breathing deeply and clenching her fingers “Would you like anything else Mr Shelby? Thank you perhaps?” I say, teasing him ever so slightly and for a second, I register a humorous glint in his eye. 

He say’s nothing more, instead he takes his coat from the man standing to his left and proudly he stands to his full height and swings it on before getting out a small silver packet from his left pocket and removing a cigarette.  
“Mary, Ronnie,” He says before walking out of the pub and letting the doors slap close as he departs. 

Immediately, Mary lets out a huff of air before visually fanning her self “ How can one man be so infuriating yet flippin’ gorgeous!” 

Due to the latter part of her comment, I turn to her in dismay and she pauses her hand mid-waft, letting it hang in the air.  
Pausing the words and letting them stick in my throat I inhale before mumbling that I will get us more drinks and approach the bar, letting my forearms lean onto the wooden edge “Two Pickfords?” Harry asked.  
I nod in response.

My initial plan was to remain out of the way of Thomas Shelby and earning a place in his good books, only landed me on the path to having my own intestines being used as decorative interior.  
Not to mention if his mood was reasonably pleasant, it meant he had yet to find out that one (Or thrice) of his men’s spleen was probably hanging somewhere in my office. 

After Harry handed over the drinks, I turned back to our table and noticed that Mary was still focused on the location that Mr Shelby had been and after attempting to grab her attention with a loud cough, I end up giving her shoulder a shake.  
“Sorry, sorry” She says, trying to hide the red blush that fell from her cheeks.  
I shake off her behaviour before looking in the direction of Finn and nervously, he remains sat, his cap folded in his hands.  
He shoots me a hesitant smile and although I don’t give one back, I don’t grimace and as my eyes continue to linger on him, it attracts Mary’s attention and she too looks over to him causing him to go back to the conversation with his brothers.  
“He must be Finn then,” She points out obviously.  
I nod before answering “Yes it is and I don’t know whether I’m going to regret saving the boy now. Seems there all more trouble than they’re worth.”  
I take a gracious sip of my drink and let the liquid sit in my mouth which causes the flavours to erupt, resulting in my cheeks tingling “How is it Mr Shelby knows your name Ronnie?” Mary asks, curiously.  
I swirl the liquid in my mouth now, so the bubbles ripple along the roof of my mouth and onto my left cheek “On my second day in Small Heath, a short man approached me; he informed me news travelled fast around here, but what he was really referring to was that he did. He is your simple day to day man but underneath the cap he’s considered a fly on the wall.”  
With this bubble of thought, Mary’s eyes tilted to the left before resting back onto me “Charlie!”  
The week after I arrived in Small Heath, I started noticing the young man in the shops, in the pub, down the road and up the walls; of course suspicion was raised and surely on one or two occasions, Charlie got what he deserved when he was tossed like a rag doll onto the roads and against the walls.  
I nod in confirmation, before telling more of the story “Two days later, I was sat by the canal minding my own business, when Charlie was being dragged out of one of the buildings, I now know to be a shoe factory. A brother of Thomas’s had him by the scruff of his hair and as he flailed, he ended up kicking him directly in the bend of his knee. They both fell into a pile and as soon as Charlie scrambled to his feet, the first thing he saw was me.”  
Again Mary appears ghostly and a gasp of breath falls out of her mouth “What luck I must have when Mr Thomas Shelby followed out, his gun raised; in order to distract him, Charlie bellowed my name whilst pointing in my direction. In that moment, he seized the gun from Thomas and he started to wave it around like a flag.”  
Mary’s hand was now covering her lower jaw in shock “I stood and immediately shot. Charlie slumped to the ground and without a word, I turned back round and went back to minding my own business.”  
It stays quiet now, the loud shouts of Merry men and women doing everything they could to cause our ears pain, yet still we don’t rub our ears in the slightest defeat “That’s it? Did Mr Shelby thank you then either?”  
I shake my head in admission “I didn’t hang around anyway to find out, I had shit to do.”  
Mary licks her lips once and then twice before tightening them together and puckering them outwards “Might I ask you something then Ronnie? How is it you learnt how to shoot... my own father didn’t let me look at a dam gun until I was 22 and by then, I was already married with Harry telling me there was no need to learn such a thing.”  
My shoulders slump, mostly because I’m tired of attempting to remain somewhat collected and as I rub my face again, a wisp of hair falls onto the side of my right cheek “My father taught me. He was a Sergeant in the military and my mother and me lived on site with him. Much to her dismay, Dad had already taught me how to hold a gun as well as disarm someone by the age of 5.  
“He wanted a son you see, so instead of accepting me for whom I was, he behaved and treated me as if I was one. No time out for bleeding, no long hair allowed, no wussy excuses because it wasn’t manly...He said he wanted me to be able to run circles around him by the time I was 10.”  
“Ronnie, that’s awful. To deny you of who you truly are is a crime,” Mary sympathised, her hand now laid between the both of us.  
I take it with gratitude “I thank you for your love Mary but don’t feel sorry, for now I am free and that’s all that matters.”


	3. Just smoke.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Veronica feels trouble always has a way of finding her.

By the time both Mary and I had departed from The Garrison, we were both very evidently squiffy and it took more attempts than we’d like to admit to get the lingering men who hung outside for a smoke, to accept that we didn’t need any assistance getting home.  
Mary audibly admitted that she was married and found their action wildly unacceptable, yet one man responded by saying he was sure her husband would encourage it.

Before I could let my mind hesitate at the response that the vulgar gentleman gave, I dragged Mary along and onto a street that appeared so sparingly desolate, it almost became a dare to walk on. 

“I really don’t want to go home to Harry, Ronnie, must I?” Mary slurred, placing her weight onto me.  
For no reason at all, I find Mary’s behaviour a little funny, so I let out a chuckle before slurring something back “You know you’re more than welcome to take the spare bedroom at my house.”  
An audible gasp leaves her mouth before a bundle of excitement explodes from her body and as she starts to skip a little, her heels click louder on the pavement “Another Pickford sounds utterly delightful to me!” She teases, clasping her hands together.

I shake my head visually before emitting a laugh “Do you want to get up tomorrow morning Mary? It’s nearly 2:00am and we aren’t even in bed yet.”  
Mary halts her skipping entirely before hooking her arm into mine and placing her head onto my shoulder “Oww but I am having so much fun!” She moans, her voice carrying itself through the empty streets. 

“I know and I’m sorry we have to bring our night to an end,” I say truthfully. 

Finally we reach the end of the street and as we turn a corner, to then cross a road, Mary points out that a figure lay on the floor, not too far ahead “It isn’t the alcohol speaking to me, is it?” She asks, rubbing her eyes gently.

I squint a little and blink my eyes repeatedly in hope to shift my vision before coming to the conclusion that what we were seeing wasn’t our imaginations acting up “No, I’m afraid it isn’t. If I’m being entirely honest, I don’t know if their drunk or injured.”

As we get closer, our holds tightening on each other, the light coming from the street lamps starts to reveal the shoes the stranger wore and just as were roughly 100 yards away, Mary leaps into a small run “Ronnie I think he’s hurt.”

The body didn’t actually belong to a stranger at all.  
It was actually Finn and he seemed to flop uncontrollably against my front door whilst his head lulled to the side, his arms following “Love, are you alright?” Mary questioned, kneeling down and shaking his shoulder. 

Upon shifting his head, Mary realised her question was almost daft as there was a massive cut on his hairline, which emitted a thick line of blood that dribbled down the centre of his face and onto his collar. 

“Oh my god, Ronnie,” Mary exclaimed bringing her hands to her mouth.

I kneel down along with her and take Finn’s chin into my hand before watching to see if his eyelids flickered or his lips twitched “Finn, are you ok? I need you to talk to me!” I say, rather loudly. 

After a moment or so, he slips out an incoherent moan but nothing more “Lets try and get him inside!” I announce.  
Painfully, Mary tries to hook her arms beneath Finn’s yet as she tries to take his weight, she stumbles a great amount and for a moment, I think they’re going to tip over “Oh for god sake, come on Mary!” Mary mumbles to herself in encouragement.

Flinging open my front door, I bend to the same height as Mary and take one arm of Finn’s and take some of his weight. On the count of 3, we lift Finn off the ground and due to his lack of control and ours; we bump manically against not only the furniture but also the walls as we attempt to make our way to the kitchen at the back of my house. 

“Christ, why is it when your drunk everything seems so much tougher?” Mary groans, hitting her elbow for what might have been the twelfth time. 

Eventually we stumble into the kitchen and as Mary takes Finn’s weight for a moment, I grab a kitchen chair and plant him on it “How the hell did the boy even know where you live?” Mary panted out, pushing back the hair that had fallen out of her clip.

I shrug my shoulders before making my way to the cabinet, which stood in the right hand corner next to the fridge “I’ll be honest, I don’t know but I can tell you he’d be in a worse state, if he got the neighbour to my right. He’s a bloody sod,” I ramble, retrieving the first aid kit. 

As I lay out the box onto the table, I unfasten it and lay out it’s contents whilst Mary takes a damp towel to the open wound on Finn’s forehead “Looks like it’s been bleeding a while but it seems to be clotted slightly which has stopped the blood flow!” She informed me.  
Whilst she continued to dab at his forehead, Finn began uttering small noises of discomfort and as they become more pronounced, his eyelids started to flutter “St-stop!” Finn stuttered, attempting to lift his hand towards Mary to bat her away.

“No! Sit still!” Mary demanded.

With Finn becoming more conscious, it made seeing to him a fraction more difficult and as we were far from sober, we had to tackle one job together making the main task last longer than anticipated. 

By the time we had finished, it was around quarter to 3 and Finn was currently dozing in my kitchen, his head covered in a small bandaged that stretched the entire perimeter of his head “He’s definitely showing signs of bruising around his left cheek bone and temple, which means when he wakes, it’ll feel like he’s congested…as for everything else, I think we’ve got it covered, so we can call it a night,” I announce, standing to my full height.

By now we were fully sober and instead of feeling remotely pleased with our selves, we were just overwhelmed with fatigue “I’d much rather have gone to bed drunk than feeling like this,” Mary had uttered for what was the fourth time.

Cleaning up after us, I take the pile of rubbish and throw them in the bin, before retrieving the first aid box and putting it back into the cupboard “I know but at least you’ll sleep without any weight…you know for a fact you’d feel guilty if we just left him,” I say, now washing my hands.

As the sounds of running water and Mary’s heavy breathing starts to fill my ears, I turn in Finn’s direction and watch as his head continues to drop further to his shoulder; grabbing the tea towel which lay next to the sink, I dry my hands before heading over to the dinning table and giving Finn a shake “Come on little one, let’s get you to bed,” I say, watching his eyes flitter open briefly. 

Assisting me in the matter, Mary helps Finn up and steadily I take all of his weight as my arm wraps around his waist whilst his head fall’s onto my shoulder “I’ll set up your pull out in your room, he can have the spare bed,” Mary announced whilst standing back.

I nod in confirmation before slowly making my way upstairs and as our feet climb higher and higher, I have to whisper reminding words to Finn to keep him awake; thankfully, Mary was behind us which gave me the confidence that if my body gave way, no harm would be done.  
As we reached the upper landing, Mary goes ahead of us before opening the spare bedroom door and walking over to the single bed, which lay in the centre of the room. She pulled back the duvet, to then plump up the pillow and hurriedly; she came back to my side before helping me lift Finn onto the bed. 

Before I can even begin removing his shoes, a collection of snores falls from Finn and soon, it’s all that we can hear as we pull the curtains shut and close the door.  
Whilst Mary walks into my bedroom, the clangs of metal and released springs following her actions, I wait outside the spare room door just in case Finn wakes, yet he doesn’t. 

As I plod back into my bedroom, the pull out bed already covered with a number of blankets and a small pillow, Mary asks “What do you anticipate Mr Shelby will do now?”

I puff out a large breath of air before walking over to the window and peering behind the curtain; the street outside is utterly deserted, not to mention it lays in utter darkness, making it appear almost inhabitable.

“Truthfully I don’t know but knowing how well the little one can keep quiet, I’m suspecting something will follow, it almost makes me nervous,” I admit, now removing my clothes. 

As Mary tucks her self beneath the covers of her bed, I walk over to my wardrobe and pull out the nighty, which hung to the left side “Will it follow you to work, Ronnie?” She whispers, nervously. 

I sling on my sleep wear, to then wander over to my own bed and climb inside “Everything follows me there, Mary. It always does,” I admit before finally letting myself succumb to the darkness. 

* 

As I woke on my right side, I noticed there was a slither of light that fell through the curtains and graced my left hip and as I blinked not once but twice, I notice there is no sound falling around me.  
Lifting my self upwards, I rub my eyes with the heel of my hands before looking over to my left to see that the bed Mary had fallen asleep on was already tidied up and put away “Jesus, it’s can’t even 7,” I mumble, climbing out of my bed.

Leisurely, I head over to my wash basin before taking the cloth beside it and dipping it into the cool water; I spend a good 10 minutes cleaning myself before I grab my work clothes from the previous day and place them on.  
As I gaze in the mirror, I check to see if there are any creases in my clothes and there aren’t, so quietly, I make my way to the landing and down the stairs, where two voices hit my ears.

“So where do you work Mary?” I hear Finn ask.

As I rounded the corner, I spot Mary with an apron on and a spatula in her hand, whilst Finn, sat awake at my dining table, the bruises on his face now more evident then ever.

“Ronnie, Good morning! You didn’t mind did you?” Mary asked, pointing to the sizzling pan with her utensil.

Not uttering a word, I shake my head before helping my self to the pot of tea which stood in the middle of the table and as I do so, Finn’s eyes watch my every move “Good Morning Ronnie,” He says, his voice unbelievably small. 

Before I respond, I take a seat and kindly Mary hands over today’s newspaper “Finn, how are you feeling?” 

He nods to me before speaking, resulting in the curls on top of his head bouncing “I’m alive I suppose but sore.”  
I understand this because the bruises, which I had noticed, that were lining his cheekbone the previous night had swollen, causing the skin to slightly peek over the corner of his eye “Are you going to tell me what on earth occurred last night and how you knew where I lived?” I asked, attempting to keep my tone cool. 

Finn noticeably swallowed and grasped his own cup of tea before bringing his head down to his chest in anxiety “It was my fault really…I was supposed to go home with Arthur but he ended up leaving with some women he met at the bar, so I went alone,” Finn explained before continuing “It was only when I got to the end of Witton Street and turned right, did he get me!” 

I open the newspaper in front of me, lying it on the table so I could see everything with no restrictions “Do you know who it was?” I questioned, crossing my legs and knitting my hands together.

Finn shook his head “No, it was too dark and I had too much to drink! All I noticed was that he wore a brass bangle on his left wrist and he coughed after every punch.”

Immediately I knew it was but I had no intention of mentioning that fact to Finn “And you found my house, how?” I continued pushing. 

Now, Finn slowly blushed and to distract himself slightly he pulled his hat a little further down his head before hiding his hands beneath the table “I saw you driving past Will’s newsagents, so I ran after and followed you. I only realised when I saw Mary standing outside your door,” Finn confessed. 

I look towards Mary now who is quietly scooping the contents of the meal onto three separate plates and as she senses my eyes, she looks in my direction before simply shrugging her shoulders “At least this time you didn’t bloody get caught…” I mumble. 

Finn doesn’t continue and you can tell why he doesn’t as the pigment in his skin lost all colour upon the comment I made - Thankfully Mary placed the food in front of him along with a knife and fork and hurriedly, he began to shovel in nearly all of the bacon she placed on his plate.  
“Slow down boy, you’ll choke!” Mary commented, smacking his right shoulder lightly. 

Registering the comment, Finn sat back in his chair before straightening his back and covering his mouth with his hand, obscuring the dangling pieces of bacon that fell from him “That’s much better, thank you Finn,” Mary praised. 

Quietly, we all started to eat in silence with the only sound being my arm rustling against the newspaper that lay beneath my plate – after finishing their meal, both Finn and Mary fell into easy conversation whilst I myself, put away the plates and retrieved my shoes and coat from my bedroom.  
As I sat back down in the kitchen, my fingers now fiddling with the buckles on my left heel, Mary paused her conversation before talking to me “Want me to lock up?”

“If you could that would be excellent,” I say smiling in success as my shoes were now tied. 

“Don’t bother fetching the key to work for me, just keep it on you until the next time I see you, ok?” I instruct before scooping up my coat that I had hung on the back of Finn’s seat.

After I tied together the buttons and grabbed the my car keys from a draw that lay next to the sink, I let my eyes fall to Finn who nervously goes back to grasping his now empty cup of tea “Your not gonna scream at me, are you?”

I let out a loud sigh, allowing my facial muscles to relax so I don’t look as if I’m grimacing “No Finn I am not, all that I ask is that you don’t tell Mr Shelby about me. Feel free to tell him you’ve been somewhere as well as received medical care from them but do not utter a dam word it is at my place alright” I say seriously.  
Finn nods rapidly before allowing Mary to grasp his left hand, which now started to form small indents in his forefinger and index due to holding his cup so tightly. 

“I promise you are safe here Finn Shelby but I can’t keep that promise if you talk about me, alright?” I utter sincerely.  
Visually you can see Finn relaxed and slowly he starts to smile before Mary adds a comment “Don’t be frightened, Ron here just doesn’t like been talked about! Likes her private life, to stay private, ya know?” 

The atmosphere oddly remains easy and as I nod my head in farewell, I make my way out of the house, to then get in my car and begin on my way to work.  
Weirdly this morning the village appears almost lifeless; no clothed feet touched the side streets and the protests which dressed the roads only hours ago, were no longer seen, taking their volume with them.  
It is only when I get to the office, does life seem remotely evident as three men all hop out there cars and approach the entrance. 

A prickling sensation develops in the tips of my fingers and as I try to ignore it, I pull into my usual spot behind the building and purposefully slow down my movements: removing my keys, ensuring the windows were wound all the way to the top, double checking that the drop down was tightly secure and then finally, not only had the man gone through the door but a minute had passed. 

Throwing open the drivers door, I get out and lock it before gliding over and knocking the tip of my heel against the steel barrier; like clockwork, you hear three clicks, a rotating whiz and then a sliding gate being shifted “Name?”

“Ronnie,” I answer as per usual.

The third click arrives and eventually, the door opens and I step inside – I count in my head steadily, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and instantly, George’s hand grab both my arms “Got anything worthy of suspicion on you Ronnie?” He chuckles.

This time, I don’t respond kindly, I just utter an empty “No,” before predicting the direction his hands are going to go and it’s only when his hands touch my upper thigh, do I feel the bangle hit my leg and pull the material downwards slightly. 

It’s when he is at my feet do I unbutton my coat, before taking my left hand and placing it beneath Georges jaw, throwing it upwards so his eyes make contact with mine “So, did you find anything of interest?” I ask, my voice coming out monotone.

“No,” He spat.

I smirk wildly and before he even documents the movement, my right hand is forcing the barrel of my gun into his mouth and the bullet is exiting through the back of his skull.  
His body immediately becomes limp and as the movement of the bullet caused George to throw his head back, his body follows easily and he falls to the ground “Good!” I utter, before putting the gun back in its holster. 

Turning left, I head down the usual corridor before turning right, into the main part of the building – my desk which I saw to as meaningless because I never used it, caught my eye as on top of it, lay a large cardboard box, my name printed on the side.  
As I observe the scene from a distance, a gentleman name James bumps my shoulder with his elbow “Came ‘dis mornin’, round 6…thought I wa’ the first in!”  
James had lost a number of teeth, including his front, which meant that when he spoke, his tongue travelled further and pronounced his vowels even louder. 

“Thanks,” I tell him.

Smiling at me with his wide toothy grin, James trots away and I make my way over to my desk which is on the 6th row from the left and the second one down; as I get there, I cautiously observe the cardboard box, examining it for any indents or hazards I need to be aware off. When I find none, I take my hands to the sides of the box and lift…immediately a feel something circular shift from the left side to the right. I know what this is, I thought.

I drop the box carelessly, causing the item inside to thump loudly and without any hesitation, I pull the scissors from a draw on my right and begin removing the tape, which held the box shut.  
As I removed the tape, which sealed the flaps at the top of the box, they popped open, a horrific smell following that caused me to scrunch my nose in distaste “Fuck sake,” I groan.  
I toss the scissors to the right of the box and move the flaps of cardboard out of my view and there at the bottom of this square pit is a day old severed head, that belonged to sthe Peaky Blinder whom had stood at The Gallows only yesterday.  
The gentleman’s mouth lay open and sadly the corners of his lips had been sliced with a knife, resulting the skin on this right upper lip to wriggle and flop with slight movement…the rest of his face was so incredibly mutilated, I couldn’t properly identify the shapes of his eyes nor where his nose may have been. 

Grabbing the corner of the box, I lift it and start to make my way over to Edwards’s office and as I shove people out of my way, the head bangs aggressively around the box, resulting in people shouting my name in disgust “Ronnie! Get that thing away!”  
I do nothing but scowl at them which makes them take a step backwards – pumping my free fist on his door, Edward calls out a loud ‘Come in’ and as I enter, I place the box onto the free chair and drag the head upwards from inside it by his hair, dangling it in front of Edward.  
“Is this your idea of a fucking joke?” I growl. 

Edward doesn’t flinch, in fact he behaves like I just put a bunch of roses on his desk… he starts to smile wildly, tilting his head to the side and as his eyes fall to the bottom of the neck, he starts to admire how there are so many pieces of old skin dangling from the head.  
“I thought you may appreciate a souvenir,” He chimes, gesticulating wildly. 

I scoff audibly before throwing the head back into the box “That’s bull shit, your just pissed I beggared of yesterday,” I say, my voice now a great deal quieter. 

Edward turned his head to the right before spitting out whatever was in his mouth before taking an unlit cigar that laid to his right, to his mouth “Or perhaps, I’m pissed because you didn’t finish the fucking job yesterday afternoon.”  
His voice had now fallen around three octaves and it sounded as if someone was running a piece of sandpaper over his throat.

Frustratingly slow, I took the cardboard box off the only available chair to then lower myself onto the material whilst letting my hands and fingers almost strangle the arm rests “And if you think I’m going to believe you when you say you didn’t know Sabini didn’t want to deal with you, your bloody stupid.”

Loudly Edward sucked the tip of the cigar, emitting a loud pop when he finished the action, before grabbing a guillotine cutter and removing the end “Perhaps…” He said, so dangerously low. 

I clench the arm rests again, careful to rein in my anger “Well now, you’re having to deal with Mr Solomon because rightly so, his men anticipated I was part of Sabini’s gang and shot at me!”  
Truly I can’t help and I yell the end of my spoken sentence, hoping the amplified volume drives it home and its as if a screw driver has been wedged in his spine because his eyes widen, the cigar falls out of his mouth and he robotically, makes his way over to me, to then bend down.

“I. Beg. Your. Pardon?” Edward spat. 

What Edward didn’t know was that I was fully aware of just how much he hated Mr Solomon.  
Something which was partly infuriating and incredibly handy, was that Edward never forgot anything and what held it self on the borderline of humour was he still held a grudge against Alfie Solomon for something that begun back in School.  
Something that was now well over 25 years ago.  
Originally Edward William Hill was born in St Pancras; London yet went to school in Camden, with Alfie Solomon’s and Darcy Sabini. As friends Mr Solomon rated Hill wildly as a child, however what he needed at the time was Sabini’s brains, not Hill’s violence. Alfie had already that aspect very well covered.  
It’s this fact, alone which caused upset for Edward… once he wanted to drive the point home so strongly that he personally massacred over 15 jews in public and sent each individual head to Alfie. 

I raise my right eyebrow daringly “Apparently Mr Sabini isn’t known for keeping his word and Mr Solomon didn’t like it. I got there and was immediately ambushed.”  
Unexpectedly, Edward grinned like a Cheshire cat and begins to lean against the front of his desk whilst folding his arms “And…how many?”

Here it was, I thought.  
All the air was sucked out of the room as Edward’s ego protruded from his chest, wanting, no demanding to be soothed and groomed but I refused to answer.  
In response to my ignorance Edward shot forward, slapping my right cheek harshly, to then grab my neck and lift me forward “TELL ME THE NUMBER,” He yelled, burying his fingers into my skin. 

My brain cries out.  
Edward’s hand was so tightly wrapped around my neck, the air to my lungs had completely stopped and in order to gather as much oxygen as I could, I relax every part of me yet still, I don’t respond and I pay for it. 

In a matter of seconds, an earth shattering pain rips through my entire body and I can’t help but cry out, liquid flying here and there as the sounds reverberates.  
Edward had wedged a knife into the outside of my thigh and slowly he was pushing it in further and further “The number?”

I clench my teeth together as well as my eyelids and frustratingly I blubber out the answer “15.”  
Like a set of bowling pins, I am dropped to the floor, falling onto the chair to then tip over the side and collide with the tall wooden coat hook – Edward started to manically laugh in success, clenching his fists and pumping them into the air before walking back round to the front of his desk, where he began writing.

Just like that, he had forgotten all about me.  
Without thinking, I pull down the white shirt that hung above me on the hook and ripped of one of the sleeves – the next couple of movements I do, I try to do with no hesitation: I clench my teeth, remove the knife, wrap the sleeve around my leg and immediately apply pressure “God you fuckin’ cunt,” I growl, the pain causing small circles to appear in my eyesight.

Again, Edward does nothing but laugh louder and louder “You find when you want answers Veronica, no action, no matter how bad, will keep you from getting them.” 

I focus on my breathing, being mindful to not take my concentration from it and after one moment and then another, I grab the nearest thing to me and lift myself up, emitting a cry when I do so. 

“You will regret” I comment, panting out loud long breaths before continuing “Ever saying that to me!” 

Before Edward could do anything further, I yank open the door and walk out into the mess of workers, none of them caring about my injured state. However as I get further and further into the crowd and closer to the exit, a loud sound can be heard coming from it and immediately I halt my footsteps. One by one, a head and then another turns in the direction of the door, which led, to the corridor and in curiosity, people start to approach the noise, increasing the stride of their footsteps as the moment passes.  
I personally take a step backwards before tucking my hand into my jacket and grasping the handle of my gun and then surprisingly a man runs from the small doorway causing all of us those who were observing the scene to jump frighteningly.  
Then suddenly a loud eruption takes place and a force launches me backwards, into the desk behind me. 

1 bang.  
2 bangs.  
Then… 3. 

It was as if my ear drums had become gongs them selves because now, a rippling effect was felt throughout my spine, delivering nervous shakes to my knees.

My back was leant up against one of the corners of the desks and as I flumped to the ground, my head now nearing my knee, I saw multiple men falling backwards…then suddenly, a number of gun shots could be heard and my focus finally returned.  
The pain now only a mere thought, I lifted my right arm to try and waft away the never-ending dust that seemed to fall from not only above me but in front of me as well. Then as discreetly as I could, I shuffled my entire body weight with the strength of my right arm, trying my best to hide all of me with the multiple obstructions that now lay carelessly all over the office.  
The office appeared as if a bunch of men and women had looted every square inch of the building; multiple draws hung out of desks, chairs were now separated and lay in pieces which were scattered, whilst the papers that were once filed in cabinets, now covered the majority of the floor. (Some papers were still falling to the ground due to the explosion).

What was the most obvious was that the explosion had caused a large chunk of wall (the one which shielded the corridor from the office) to completely fall through and as I tucked myself behind yet another desk, I peered around the corner and identified the men whom fell into the building. Peaky Blinders.

It looked like Mr Shelby had finally found out what Edward had done to his men…  
It also meant that if I didn’t hurry up, he would also found out whom I worked for. 

Taking this as motivation, I attempt to lift my injured leg beneath me to see if I could apply any weight and as a minimal amount fell onto the muscle, a shot of pain erupted through me.  
Inhaling multiple breaths, after alleviating the weight from my leg for a millisecond, I try again yet don’t cry out this time, instead I clench my teeth and only let out a small gurgle.  
I commit the same movement again to then check around the corner of the desk one final time to observe the situation and as a crowd of men circle a number of Edwards, I take this opportunity to dash forward. 

The sudden rush of adrenalin thankfully dulls the pain, which hits my pelvic joints, and before I make the final attempt to weave through the gaping hole in the wall, I hide behind a massive pile of bricks, which is roughly 100 yards from where I want to be.  
Resting my head back onto the concrete material, I inhale for what feels like a thousand times, yet whilst doing so I feel more liquid ooze from my thigh, covering the white sleeve in red.  
I need to get out of here, quick, I thought.  
The dust that had been falling from multiple sources was now beginning to settle which meant that I was loosing a great advantage and as more gunshots were heard, a group of Peakys made their way over to Edwards office, to then bang down the door.

A moment of escape strikes me and I register nothing as I skittered poorly over the debris that lay around me before finally leaping over the disintegrated wall and burying my self in the darkness of the corridor. Here there was an air of coolness provided by the lack of light and as I wobble, stumble and almost fall, I grab onto a loose brick as I descend, causing the material to slip out and clunk to the floor, hitting my foot on the way “Shit!” I curse, loudly. 

The sound echoes throughout the warehouse resulting in a silence that fell from every one and as I curse like a sailor at my lack of luck showing its true colours, I try to hobble faster in the direction of the exit.  
I am given nothing now, fierce bumping sounds as well as clangs follow my every move and I know that I am in deeper that I anticipated – as I leave the corridor, I suffer due to the loss of the wall causing my balance to become unpredictable. 

But I can’t stop, don’t stop! I thought.  
A trail of voices started to come from behind me and I use this as momentum to spur me forward before thankfully reaching the rectangular shape of light that led to my car.  
Somehow there are no more cars outside, which strikes me as an oddity because there were at least 3 when I had arrived earlier...however I hush my brain into silence as the comfort of my vehicle hits me and just as the voices from over my shoulder increase in volume, I climb into the back of my car and hide myself under a large blanket that I usually use to shield my weaponry. 

I hold my self as still as possible whilst slowing my breath and as the crunch of gravel falls around my vehicle, I watch as slowly a shadow comes over and nervously, I watch as the blanket which covered my foot is lifted.

Fuck, I think.


	4. Hide & Seek.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets have a funny way of being revealed for Veronica.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize that I haven't updated in such a long time, but sadly the past few weeks have been incredibly busy.  
> I'm so excited to present you with another chapter, which I thoroughly enjoyed as secrets are now being spilt. 
> 
> Please, feel free to kudos and leave any comments or thoughts.

Automatically, I pull out my gun and aim it towards the increasing circle of light that is forming around my feet. However luckily, I don’t have to allow my natural instincts to take control because a pair of eyes appear and they belong to Finn.

“Jesus Finn,” I whisper, huffing out a loud breath and letting my head clunk against the metal beneath me. 

Within seconds, he drops the sheet and a flurry of voices shoot past before he lifts it again and makes eye contact with me “I needed to know if you were here and this was one of the first places I thought to check; Ronnie, you need to get out of here! It’s Tom, he’s furious!” 

He rushes out these words; each one blending with another until finally he pauses to take a breath and checks the area around him “Really? I hadn’t grasped that from the hole in the pissing wall!” I spat out, the pain momentarily grabbing a hold of me.

As I whimper quietly as well as twitch, Finn’s eyes fall to my thigh and they bulge in response “What the he-”

I cut him off instantly “Questions later Finn! Just keep your boys away from here!” I order, pulling down the sheet, covering my feet again.  
I continue to lay there for a while and it’s possible my wait turns into 5 minutes before soon a small tap comes from the left of my car and then…silence.  
I daren’t let myself get too far ahead, so I hang on another minute so that I can be sure my escape won’t be compromised and slowly, I edge towards the right side of the sheet that covers me and peek at the scene around me.

Due to the structure of my car, the first thing I saw was the right side of the boot as well as an inch of grey sky; my car was a Vauxhall 2360, that had a convertible top which meant that every time I moved, the roof material would almost shiver in response.  
I attempt to move as subtly as possible before leaning upwards (the plastic sheet still covering some of my facial features) and peer at the scene ahead. Apart from a great deal of building material that lay everywhere, the coast was completely clear, and I let out a sigh of relief. As quietly as I could, I make my way out of the back of my car with my right hand around my injured thigh and when my feet collide with the gravel beneath, I hear a loud click come from behind me. 

“Going anywhere without me, are we?”  
It’s Edward. 

I raise my hands, palms facing forwards as I turn to face Edward and I see that his demeanour has entirely changed; his suit no longer lays visible, and part of his face is either covered in blood or dust, erasing the true pigment of his skin. 

“You just stabbed me in the thigh, I’m hardly going to be leaping to your rescue Edward,” I grumble out. 

He spits at me, the phlegm landing on my left shoe and I do everything I can to not look at the projected liquid “Just fuckin’ get in!” I growl. 

I take my car keys to the driver’s door before unlocking it and scurrying to get inside; like a lifeline, Edward yanks on my passenger door until I unlock it for him and as he climbs in to then shut the door, his momentum wobbles us from side to side.  
Immediately, I turn on the engine and cover the accelerator with my foot; as soon as I release the break, we skid from side to side, sending a great deal of dust everywhere before finally falling into a straight line and fleeing out of sight. 

As a safety precaution, Edward winds down my window and holds out his gun, poised and ready if any matter arises, yet thankfully and also strangely, no one follows us or even tries “Where do you want dropping off?” I ask.

He looks at me briefly before letting his eyes fall back to the road behind him “Your place will do!”

I growl loudly before slamming onto the breaks, launching us both forward and I watch as Edward rubs his head furiously as it collided with the centre mirror “You can fuck right off with that!” 

Seconds later, a barrel is pointed right at me and fearlessly, I don’t hesitate nor twitch “Your place! Now!” He exclaims loudly, forcing the tip of the gun into my cheek. 

I let out a deep breath before relaxing into the back of my seat and remove my hands from the wheel, letting them fall to my thighs “Your safe, full of all your money is at my house Edward. I take you there and they’re given an incentive to raid. But by all means, lets go!” 

Confidently, I let my foot go back onto the accelerator, yet within seconds Edward is screaming and shouting in denial “No! No! Not a chance!” 

I feel the barrel of the gun be forced into the left side of my jaw now and as I use my peripheral vision to take in Edward’s aura, I see that he is full of fear; I have him right where I want him.

I allow his negative energy to simmer a while, hoping that eventually Edward becomes so deeply wrapped in the emotion, that he may behave recklessly, yet all he does is twitch, turn around incessantly whilst increasing his grip on the gun which was still pointed at me. 

As the silence becomes almost unbearable for him, a shock wrecks us as multiple cars drive past and in this momentary distraction, I bat away the gun, causing Edward to twitch and send a bullet in the direction of my wing mirror.  
It completely exploded.

“Get out my fucking car!” I yell loudly.

I listen to the sounds of the village around me and take note on the fact engines still revved at a dangerously close distance; I had no interest in being found with the man they were visibly looking for “Get out my fucking car!” I scream again, shoving him with my left arm.

For a moment, Edward looks bewildered and almost shocked at my sudden announcement; his eyes were like saucers and beads of sweat seemed to drip down the left side of his face. 

“I’ll remember this you know!” He screams, spit flying everywhere as he raged.

I smirk at him in response, allowing my body to relax slightly “And I’ll remember the knife in my thigh, now fucking get out!”

With one final shove from my left foot, I send Edward crashing into the passenger door and like a scared child; he fumbles trying to find the door handle before slumping out, his feet only just catching him. 

I didn’t even wait for him to shut the door.  
Before Edward could even retort or swing his body around so it was facing me…I was gone; my foot on the pedal, my hand grasping at the gear stick, whilst my passenger door, flapped in the wind before one violent turn slammed it shut. 

It might have been odd to some that I let Edward ride in my car in the first place, to just kick him out later on but the truth was, everyone was easier to dominate when they were full of fear.  
If I had said no to him whilst I was trying to escape initially, it would have turned into a gunfight, drawing the attention of the Peaky boys, whilst in my car and away from any outer influence, my words started to cause his mental state to deteriorate, resulting in me gaining the upper hand. 

Although I am eager to climb into my humble abode, I resist and drive around the block, which held my homely structure, keeping an eye out for anything familiar or suspicious.  
As soon as 5 minutes pass and then 10, I settle slightly, allowing my shoulders to droop and hesitantly drive onto the small road between the row of houses, that held mine as well as others.  
At the back of my house was a cornered off drive way and a slim, steel fence, which stood at the height of 7ft that stretched around it, shielding the world from the back entrance to my house. 

In the dead centre of the large steel wall, were a pair of gates that opened inwards and as I hop out to open them and then climb back in, I drive my car into its usual safe spot before hurriedly fastening the gates once more. 

I noticed that as soon as I turned down the small road which led to my house, the adrenalin started to dissipate, causing the pain in my thigh to become more noticeable and as I made my way up the staircase to my back door, a shooting pain hits my lower back and causes my stomach to turn. 

I can’t help it but I vomit.  
Bending over, my left hand clenches the door handle whilst my brain tells my body to empty my stomach’s contents; I am immediately dizzy and my temperature rises rapidly.

I force the key in the door and as I slip and slide into the kitchen (I probably look like a new born deer), I attempt to lock the door behind me but falter as another wave of nausea erupts and like lightening I rush to the sink, vomiting once more.

“C’ooor”, I grumble, feeling the horrible liquid dribble from mouth. 

I take my right arm and wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve, before having another go at the back door; I succeed and whilst I hover in this mildly coherent moment, I pull down all the blinds before limping into the living room and bolting my front door, to then do the same there. 

Somehow the darkness graces my heart and mind like a gentle caress and easily, my shoulders slump, I think I’ll stick to this room for the rest of today, I think to myself. 

As the contrast in the living room changes quickly, I pay attention to the fact that multiple coloured objects start to take shape in front of my eyes; I blink and take the palm of my right hand to rub them but this only causes the coloured blobs to greaten in size.

Ignoring this now, I carelessly begin to strip of my clothes one by one, tossing them here and there, yet it’s only when I go to remove my trousers and the temporary bandage, do I delay my actions. 

Tentatively, I unwrap Edwards sleeve, being mindful to deeply breath whilst doing so, before noting that the material was so heavily drenched in blood it caused my trousers to stick to my skin.  
Peeling it off, I wince slightly as the section of dressing which covered the wound removes some of the now dead skin, which was harmed in the brief altercation and with something that resembled a slurping sound; the bandage hit the floor, sending flicks of liquid against the walls. 

Next came my trousers, only where the clothing had ripped, pieces of cotton clung to the wound, causing some of the blood to soak into my attire changing the pigment of it; all in all, it looked like I had soiled myself. 

Despite Edward being relatively close to me, he didn’t use any additional force when stabbing me, which I realised when I properly examined the wound.  
It’s only a couple inches deep and the length of my right pinkie but it still meant having to have stitches, however the greater question was how long would it take? 

I was certain that on our departure no one other than Edward and Finn saw me but that didn’t mean the Peaky boys would refrain from house crashing. It meant I had to hurry the procedure, find some clean clothes and burn all the evidence, which would have linked me to the scene. 

Plus, with how well Finn could keep his secrets, it was almost inevitable something was going to come up. 

Painfully slow, I go to the kitchen and retrieve the first aid box, using the multitude of kitchen décor to assist me with departing from the living room and entering it.  
Then finally, collapsing onto the settee, I accidentally drop the first aid box, resulting in it clanging to the floor, causing its contents to pop out and become strewn.

“For fuck sake,” I murmur. 

However what truthfully causes me to be slightly erratic is that suddenly a phone rings and instantly my subconscious jumps into play; I grab the gun which lay in its holster that was in the corner of the settee and point it in front of me.

Of course it wasn’t necessary to some that I may need to behave this way but I had to, because the truth was, I’ve never had a phone.  
I didn’t even know I had a land line connected to the house, so you can understand that as I turn a 180 degree’s, my face scrunches in confusion whilst my brows sit highly on my face.

“What the ever lovin…” I mumble to myself.

Following the sound, I hobble slowly towards the right corner of my living room and bend at the waist before opening the cupboard that is placed there and still, to my weird surprise the phone is there.  
Removing the curved receiver from its hold, I pull it to my ear “Hello?” I say, more of a question then greeting.

“Oh Ronnie, thank god you made it home!”  
It was Finn.

I scrunch my eyebrows together even more; if I keep this action up, I’m certain my eyebrows will remain in this position I think, “Finn, what the fuck? How did you know this number? How did I even get a phone? Did you do this?” I spat out in a mass of words.

“Actually, Mary and I did it the other day; she said she found it a nuisance that she had to constantly knock on your door because you weren’t always around. I said I knew how to make one work, so she went out and I installed it the same day,” Finn informed me innocently.

I scowl and bring my forefinger and thumb to my forehead “I need to take that spare fucking key from her, she’s gonna be the death of me,” I spat out. 

“Miss Ronnie it’s only a ph-”

“Finn, I don’t have one for very good reason!” I snap before lowering my voice “I don’t want to be found and having a phone assists in that action!”

He stays quiet for a while before asking, “Who’s trying to find you?”

“Finn, it doesn’t matter who’s trying to, I shouldn’t have even told you that any way! What matters is as soon as I hang up, this phone is going!”

I know I shouldn’t have reacted the way I had but so far today’s events had made me unusually on edge, resulting in uncontrollable anger “I’m sorry for yelling, I’m a little on edge and I haven’t been able to stop the pain,” I mumble out, letting my eyes run down my still naked legs. 

“You don’t talk or have a lot of friends, do you Miss Ronnie?”  
The voice which falls out of Finn’s mouth is almost childlike and it begins to pluck at a very deep part of me, so much so that I start to feel an inch of guilt for behaving as I have.

“No Finn, I don’t” I tell him before adding “But anyway, what are you doing troubling yourself by ringing me for?” 

It sounds as if someone had physically removed their hand from his lungs because Finn lets out a gush of air in response and it sounds a great deal like relief “It got worse back at your place, Tommy is still there now…” He whispers, afraid someone may hear you.

I scrunch my eyebrows once again “Wait a second, where are you Finn?”

“I’m back at the shop…only for a moment though, we have to go back and I wanted to quickly call you to tell you Miss Ronnie, you need to stay away from there! At least for a couple of days!” Finn warns, fear evident in his voice. 

I raise my eyebrow in question before letting it fall and subconsciously, I start to wrap the wire that connects the receiver to the home base around my finger “I’m guessing Thomas found plenty to look at then…” I say, almost nonchalantly.

For a moment I hear a weird muffled sound coming from Finn and I suspect he might be covering the speaker with his hand before finally he becomes clear “That’s one way to say something about it Ronnie…did you know? That Edward kept people in the walls?”

Truthfully, no I didn’t.  
“It’s not surprising to me because I don’t think anything is beyond Edward,” I add before he quickly repeats himself “Yes, but did you know that he kept people in the walls?”  
He says this as if he is almost begging; each word sort of heightens in volume whilst the syllables decrease in numbers, sharpening his pronunciation “No Finn, I didn’t know he kept people in the walls…how did you even find out he did?” 

As he begins to explain the series of actions, I gently and rather timidly bend down to the ground and locate a suture before grabbing a pair of forceps “Well after you left, Arthur found the two doors at the left side, the ones that lead to the gallows? Apparently they were locked, so he made quite the job of removing them…it was only when he attempted to dislodge the doors from the hinges, did a hand follow with it.”

I wince a little, whether it was at what Finn said or the fact the suture was now piercing my skin, I am not entirely sure “Well, I’m sure Arthur appreciated that acquaintance…”

Thankfully, Finn did chuckle a little at the comment “In all honesty, I’ve never seen him move so quick…however it didn’t take long before the entire wall itself fell down. He had people laid and lined up like they do in the morgues! At least 20 ft up!”

Now I did pause momentarily.  
I knew Edward had a weird passion for staging a show especially when it came to counting up the number of bodies but, how would have he gotten away with such a thing like this? Surely someone would have noticed. 

“It makes you curious to the fact some of Edwards men have been so open to the idea of brutality that it is seemed to be the norm,” Finn openly commented. 

I shrug my shoulders in response as if he sees me “You can be as brutal as you want, when you lose your conscience…” I admit truthfully before adding “There isn’t much to hold you back when that segment of your brain has been erased.”

For a moment all I hear is silence and I feel as if I may have lost Finn but he surprises me with yet another hefty breath as well as a question “Ronnie, why did you choose to go to work for Edward?”  
He has hit the nail on the head, as instantly an unnerving amount of guilt erupts and floods my entire body “Miss Ronnie?”

I still haven’t answered him because truthfully, I’m rather enraptured by the fact he refers to me as Miss “I hope I never have to tell you why Finn,” and without bidding him goodbye, I hang up the phone before snipping away at the remaining silk in my leg.  
Carelessly, I toss away the now bloody pieces of equipment before taking my right hand and rubbing my face; somehow the presence of Finn had brought back memories of my own childhood…particularly the relationship with my Mum. The way Finn behaves with me, brings back the sound of my innocence I made when speaking to my mother. 

I always wanted to please my mother.  
In all honesty I always wanted to please my father too, but it became almost hopeless and eventually, I gave in by seeking my mother’s acceptance instead.  
My mother delved into medicine and one benefit of travelling in the army with my father, was that the resources were endless. Whilst my father taught me to disarm a man twice my size, my mother taught me how to care for the wounded whether that be, a broken arm or a ruptured organ.  
Dad always told me that he didn’t like to be honest with mother about his thoughts in regards to her occupation, but he shared that medicine was never going to be able to help me ‘in the big wide world’.  
Little did he know that it was my mother who taught me how to subdue people with chloroform, making capturing our enemies smoother and a lot less difficult.Not to mention, it would rapidly decrease the amount of evidence left at a scene. 

It may sound as if my father and I did not have a relationship but that is not true…he was a very loving man, but our time was severely limited. Yet he made a promise to me.A game almost.  
On the days where our hours clashed and we didn’t see each other, my father would leave a small chess piece: a crown, right by my bedside and I would almost always express myself wildly when I woke up to one. It was how I still remembered my father to this very day.  
Slowly, I bend down towards the cupboard and sharply pull the phone line from the wall, resulting in it making a loud clicking sound; as the wire hangs from my fingers, I tell myself to put it onto the kitchen table, that way in the morning I would pass it and remember to take it down to the stove in the cellar.

After I place the phone down onto the kitchen table, a heavy feeling shifts over my eyes and gradually, I realise just how tired today’s events have made me.  
In a slow daze, I begin to make my way back into the living room and as I fall into the couch, my head settling in the gap between the two cushions which made the lower half of the settee, I start to fade in and out of sleep.  
Then finally, the remaining light that fell into my living room starts to merge together and as my eyelids shut once and then twice, my eyelashes slide together, blanking out my vision entirely. 

* 

The reason I awake is because frustratingly, someone is banging on the door. Rather aggressively I might add.  
As I awaken and my senses begin to slowly come back into focus, I come to the conclusion that more than a day has passed, time wise. I can’t linger on the thought any longer as the person who is on the other side of the door, is laying further weight into their knocks, causing the sound to almost vibrate through the room.

“Alright, I’m coming!” I shout, slightly agitated.

Thankfully, my spoken words cause the guest to halt entirely and as I undo the locks and remove the bolts, I open the door to see Finn’s face appear between the door and the frame “Miss Ronnie, finally,” he pants out, a clear expression full of relief on his face.  
I take my free hand to my face and begin to rub wildly, and it’s only when I drop my hand again (it grazes along my lower stomach) do I realise that I’m still in only my underwear. 

“Sorry excuse me, I fell asleep on the settee yesterday when I was seeing to my wounds. Not dressed…” I say groggily whilst trying to cover my body with the door. 

Finn offers a slight blush yet covers it by smiling “It’s ok Miss Ronnie, I was wondering if I could have a word?”

I nod before speaking “Of course, I’ll just nip straight up to my room and grab my gown and you can help yourself to the kitchen, please excuse the mess!”

Gentlemanly yet adorably awkward, Finn places his hat in front of his line of sight before stepping into my house and passing me; assuring he was in the kitchen, I hesitantly make my way upstairs before grabbing my dressing robe which was on the back of the bathroom door. 

As I make my way back down to the kitchen, (my movements still as tentative as ever), I come across Finn who is not only whistling nonchalantly but also making a pot of tea.

“So, you said you wanted a word?” I say, announcing my arrival. 

Again, Finn behaves slightly shy; clenching his hat into both of his hands, he turns to check that the pot of water is boiling behind him, before pulling out a seat for him as well as myself.  
Then almost humouressly, he slides the telephone that was still located on the table to the left, so that it no longer obstructed his view of me. 

“It’s Edward, we still haven’t found him yet,” He informs me, knotting his hands together. 

I pause a moment, inhaling the piece of information and truthfully, I’m shocked by this because in all the time I had known Edward, he never hid.  
He didn’t escape, he didn’t run…he always bragged. 

“After we couldn’t find him at the Warehouse, we went knocking; as you might expect it didn’t take us long to find his house and we searched from top to bottom. No money was found anywhere, nor was there even anything worth taking,” Finn continued. 

Finn’s words halted as gradually, the whistle from the kettle got increasingly louder and louder and until it hit its maximum volume, he began preparing for the hot beverage. 

“It doesn’t surprise me you didn’t find anything,” I add, causing Finn to halt his motions mid move. 

“You aren’t protecting him from us, are you?”  
The way Finn says this almost makes it seem like his mocking the gas kettle; whistled words as well as paused moments…I was mildly surprised steam didn’t fall out of his ears.

“I’d rather gauge out my eyeballs with forks, Finn Shelby,” I answer truthfully, taking the hot beverage from him. 

Like a pin into a balloon, his body deflated “You scared me then Miss Ronnie,” He puffed out whilst plonking himself into the chair beneath him.

I can’t help but chuckle at his comment, that and I found it admirable that he was getting increasingly more comfortable around me “As soon as you drove away, I went back to the lads… Thomas wasn’t really doing anything other than standing and observing what was in front of him. He was shocked I supposed…I don’t think he likes people proving that he can’t take care of all his men,” Finn blurted out. 

“Eventually, Tommy declared we should scour the entire village and then without an order, John took off with Arthur in tow and I haven’t seen them since,” Finn continues.

I furrow my brows before questioning “When was that?”

“Maybe around 2 or 3? I’ll be honest I’m not sure…it’s almost like the population of Small Heath has retreated into their houses. Since yesterday, people are much more quiet…fearful almost.”

Finn was talking openly now and without any real structure and I watch as his eyes almost glaze over as he succumbs to the whole event.

“Does it bother you? What’s happening?” I ask sincerely. 

Finn shrugs before giving himself more time to think by sipping quietly on his tea “I don’t know really, I haven’t seen Tommy turn in on himself so quickly like this before…”

I feel the level of worry in his words and a part of me wants to reach out to comfort him “That’s the only downfall of working with people…especially those who are your family. Everything becomes a great deal more personal and you can become more emotionally involved; it’s good for drive I suppose and gives what you do a lot more definition. But it’s a weakness…there’s nothing more harrowing than having the responsibility of an innocent’s man’s life on your hands,” I say, whispering almost. 

“He had no idea Edward even took his men!”

I answer his whisper with one of my own “I know,”

“He isn’t going to stop Miss Ronnie!” He adds, his voice a little louder. 

I watch quietly as Finn’s hands tighten around the mug he holds, and I start to wander, has he already developed an element of care for me?

“And I do not blame him in the slightest Finn Shelby. The only responsibility you can take in all of this is by steering him correctly…” I tell him truthfully. 

Visually, you can tell that Finn absorbs all of my words and I find the image of it, almost enlightening.  
Offering me a small smile, I return one before watching him collect the remaining liquid in his mouth before pouring himself yet another cup. 

“Mary tried coming by last night by the way, she said you didn’t answer,” Finn spoke, changing the subject quickly.

“Is everything alright with her?” I ask inquisitively. 

He shakes his head before taking yet another sip “At first I thought she’d just had a bad day at work as she was behaving really on edge… she then told me that on her way home from work she found someone was following her. She didn’t think much of it until, she popped out again to Michael’s and saw he was following her then also.”

A sinking feeling enraptures my stomach and I furrow my eyebrows “Did she mention what he looked like?”

“Sorry, she didn’t, no… that was until I passed her on the way here this morning and she almost refused to stop to talk to me; she was nervous and skittish…completely out of character,” He exclaimed before continuing “She said a guy, wearing a bowlers hat and a black suit just wouldn’t leave her alone.” 

The confession drew deep thoughts into my brain and for a moment, I almost shut Finn out, making it seem as if I were alone again yet quickly, I pull myself back to reality “Right, thank you for telling me that Finn,” I say, a little more bluntly than I intended. 

As I gaze of into the distance, the thought of Mary hobbling down the street in a fearful state startles a deep part of me into action and before I realise, I’m already formulating a plan which allows me the easiest way to discover this sudden stalker. 

“Apologies Miss Ronnie but I must go, I don’t wanna be late to the shop,” Finn announces, bringing my attention back to where it should have been. 

Placing his hat upon his head and ensuring that his suit wasn’t ruffled nor displaced, Finn departed by placing his hand onto my shoulder and squeezing it gently.

“Goodbye Miss Ronnie,” He chimes, the closing door following his words. 

I didn’t want to fully admit it but at the mention of Mary’s discomfort, Finn had lost my attention entirely. In all honesty, he might as well have taken a match to a can of petrol and thrown it, considering the maddening emotions that were now conjuring in my lower stomach.  
Standing to my full height, I ignore the cups that were once between both Finn and I before making my way upstairs, where I immediately approached my wardrobe.

I did not care that a stain of blood was still wrapped around my lower leg or the fact that my bra now had multiple holes in it due to the shrapnel that had cut through the material.  
I simply grabbed my white blouse, placed it on before following with my trousers as well as my waistcoat and then before I knew it, I had descended the stairs, grabbed my car keys as well as my gun to then make my way out of my home. 

It's quite possible that I appeared as if I had been dragged through the woods backwards but I hoped that my hair was tucked under my cap just enough, whilst my hands lay deep in the coats of my pockets, covering up the layer of blood which still lay there beneath my nails.  
Inhaling my surroundings, I watch carefully as Robert my neighbour had begun placing crates into the van which was parked outside both our houses, along with William (Who many referred to as our village talker) stood at the far corner of the block, his eyes behaving erratically as he inhaled the day to day life of Small Heath. 

“Good Morning Miss Ronnie,” Robert bellowed, tipping his hat as he passed me.

I retort “A good morning it is!”

I’m unsure if he heard my response, mainly because by the time I responded he was already in his house once more retrieving yet another crate and as he came out, his hands full again, I am already half way down the street, my legs taking full strides. 

As Finn had mentioned previously, the population of Small Heath had indeed retreated back into their humble abodes; no I hadn’t gone far, but at this time in the morning, it was always the norm to become mildly frustrated by the incessant bumping and shouting which felt as if it had come from every direction.  
Rounding the corner of the block, I am finally hit by an overwhelming silence and although sounds from a distance can still be detected (as can the birds which fly above us) the difference is substantial. 

Now that I am down the alley which falls at the back of my house I quickly make my way to my vehicle; unlocking the gates, to lock them once more after moving my car, I start the engine and begin the journey towards Mary’s workplace.

As I make my way there (something which I also anticipated) there were a great number of Peaky’s patrolling the streets; there is one stationed at most street corners, whilst another two huddled in the middle of the roads, their eyes scanning the world as if searching for their prey. 

“Looks like Thomas really does want Edward,” I murmur to myself.

As I close in on Mary’s location, I start to take note of those all around me; I feel for a sense of familiarity as well as obscurity and as the behaviours of those I see around don’t cause any sense of confliction, I drive onwards.  
Before long I park up next to the shop Mary resides in and as I push open the entrance door, a bell sounds above me announcing my arrival.

Mary works in a flower shop and has developed a strong passion for not only the organisation and planning of bouquets but the idea of building a small shop herself. I was rather fond of the fact that I could now easily look at any collection of flowers and be able to tell which showcased the hands of Mary. 

“I’ll just be a second,” I hear Mary announce from the back. 

I don’t return a response, instead I wander around the large table that is situated in the middle of the shop, covered in such an array of flowers, it’s almost an insult on your senses.

“Ronnie?” Mary say’s finally. 

I turn to her and see that she is standing next to the cashiers desk, her hands on her hips and eyes alert “Good morning to you too,” I say to her, a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“What are you doing here? You never come here!” She continued, a look of question pulling at her facial features.

Letting my eyes linger on the table of colour for another second, I start to make my way over to Mary, who gradually becomes more relaxed when I approach her “Well I don’t want to make me showing up too much of a habit you know,” I tease slightly as I stand to the left of Mary, my elbows now on the cashier desk. 

She folds her arms disapprovingly, a smirk caressing the bottom half of her lips “Finn came to see me this morning, he said you tried knocking last night and I didn’t answer. I wanted to sure all was well.” 

In surprise, Mary raises her eyebrows and a look of kindness falls into her eyes, making her seem almost glazed over “Enjoying his company, are you?”

I smile at the implication “I think it could be the other way around…” I say, not showcasing any denial. 

Mary smiles wildly “Well, I think you love having him there with you…”

I immediately eye roll “Not if you’re telling him to install dam phones in my house,” 

A cross look blows up Mary’s facial features and she folds her arms in disapproval “Yes because you’re a bloody nuisance to get a hold off!”

I raise my left eyebrow and give her a small smirk “Usually when people remove all methods of contact, it’s because they don’t want to be communicated with…” 

With a light shove, Mary pushes me and I slip of the cashiers desk, resulting in me standing to my full height; releasing a sigh, Mary rubs her forehead with her right hand before folding her arms again “What can I help you with anyway?” 

“Finn mentioned yesterday that when you left work someone was following you, same again when you headed out for Michael’s…did anyone follow you this morning?” I ask quietly.

Just as quickly as the smile graced her lips, it fell off and protectively, she started to fold her arms around herself even more “I tried to brush it off…”

I approach her instantly and wrap my arms around her form, letting her nestle her head into the crook of my shoulder “You don’t need to brush it off Mary because it is deemed a problem when it affects you negatively,” I say. 

Removing herself from me, Mary wrapped her arms around her body again, (although not as tightly) before informing me “At first, I did think it was a trick of the eye and nothing more…mainly because he didn’t make the stalking so obvious. It was only when like you say when I went to Michael’s did I see the hidden agenda…as soon as I left the house door, I felt as if something clung to my back…”  
“I crossed Hannover street and then lingered around the cobblers (Shoe makers)…the one just before The Garrison that is and that’s when I saw him. He knew I had, as well,”

This time I don’t furrow my eyebrows, instead I remain unmoved and a hard look falls over my entire being “Did he make any sudden moves when he realised, you’d caught him?” I ask quietly. 

Mary shakes the head “No, that’s what I found so weird. He just stood there, tilted his cap and remained there till I exited the shop. He followed me all the way home, again doing nothing and did the same again this morning when I came to work,” She informed me. 

“It appears to me, he wants it to be known you are following him,” I admit bluntly, standing tall and placing my hands into my pockets.

A look of pure terror falls over Mary and as she gasps for breaths, she starts to pace around the small shop, causing her heels to click aggressively “But I’m a woman of no interest…” She calls out, now flailing her arms everywhere. 

Not realising it, I stand in Mary’s path and due to her head looking down, she runs into me, her heading abruptly hitting my chest “Oomph!” She emits before stumbling back and clasping her forehead. 

“I need you to calm down, ok? The worst thing to do for any hunter is give them further stimulation,” I calm her before continuing “Why don’t we go for a walk? If he's there he may think twice because you’re in company! But if he doesn’t back off, I can always come back when you finish work and take you home.”

This seems to do the trick as quickly, the redness which had built up in her cheeks started to slowly disappear “Ok! Ok, I’ll do that!” 

Without another word, Mary disappeared into the back before grabbing her coat and slumping back in my direction, her boss following her “W’as this?” Her boss, spat out, a look of pure disgust on her face.

“Terribly sorry, I have to steal her for just 10 minutes,” I say confidently, crossing my hands and letting them rest upon the top of my hips. 

There was a look of question on the small women’s face but it didn’t go any further than muscle movement; when I tried to provoke her to speak with a raised brow, she simply slumped her shoulders and took a step back “Excellent, I’ll have her back by quarter past,” I announce, guiding Mary to the exit. 

As we leave the flower shop, Mary looks at me questioningly “What did you do to her?” A smile dancing on her lips.

I shake my head disapprovingly “Truthfully, nothing…that’s the first time we’ve ever met!”

Mary lets out a small bellow and before I can note it, she has entwined her arm with mine, her warmth now seeping into me “So what was the reason you came to mine last night? You still haven’t told me.”

After I ask her this, I take this opportunity to use her distraction as a moment to begin walking and allow my eyes to go mad. I inhale every brick, every step, every shout and every appearance that is or occurs around me and along with them, a name appears above a face whilst a body appears below a voice, yet still… nothing seems out of place. 

“It’s him again Ronnie,” She tells me truthfully. 

“By him, I am assuming you mean that husband of yours?” 

Mary nods her head, bowing it slightly before tightening her grip around my arm “He was already drunk when I got home; I walked in and him and all his friends were sat around the dinner table…laughing and smoking they were.”  
Her voices veers off and decreases in volume by the time she has finished told me “And… you don’t like that, do you?” I say, looking at her sincerely. 

Mary starts to speak again to respond but she cuts herself off and I think for a moment something has caught her eye, when in reality it was only her thoughts that did “Your having second thoughts about it all, aren’t you? The Marriage?” I say quietly.

She doesn’t even hum or nod her head in response, she just stays quiet.  
But this is wonderful timing because oddly, a man fitting the description which was given to me by Finn, appears in peripheral and I suddenly go rigid.  
“Fuck,” I accidentally say out loud.

I know exactly who it is.

Mary looks at me now, her eyes narrowing whilst her nose scrunches in thought like it always does “What?” She questions.

“I tripped, sorry. I thought I was going to take us both down then,” I answer, smoothly. 

Thankfully, the path Mary led us on was only a small one which meant that we arrived back at her shop sooner than I anticipated and as Mary approached the door, I leave my hand on her left forearm and gently tug “Would you like me to come pick you up later today?” 

When she turns to look at me, I notice there are small tears laying on her eyelids and whilst inhaling a deep breath, she nods her head as she tightens her lips “Don’t worry about anything, ok?” I encourage and offer her a smile that I hope is just enough. 

Mary nods her head again before closing the door between us and making her way back into her shop and as I continue to watch her, I take a couple of steps back so that I’m on the road but not so much that I become a hazard.  
Here I am offered a greater view and my eyes become simultaneously fixed on the gentleman who still lingers, roughly 100 yards from me and as I watch him remove a cigarette from his chest pocket, I feel the pain of my nails cut into the palm of my hands as I crush them together in anger.

Immediately I take long angry strides in the direction of this unwelcomed stranger and as I get closer to him, he notes my sudden movements and makes a quick dash in the direction behind him.  
Towards the canal.

Not wanting to lose him, I eagerly increase my pace and begin to weave around the day workers as they carry their coal and transport their goods – when I finally round the corner, I see the flick of his coat as he descends down a curving staircase which leads to the docks. 

With one leap and then 3 more, I arrive at the same staircase and urge my adrenalin to move me quicker – my ankles wobble as I land on them at a slight angle, causing me to waver slightly yet I am so fuelled by the need of capturing this man that the thought barely even registers.  
I successfully land on the dirt below and as I glide closer and closer to my prey, the rising fog and smoke from passing boats, merges together, causing my view to diminish and decrease with each step. 

“I know you’re following me!” The voice shouts to me, coming from my right.

I smile wildly and let out a chuckle of pure satisfaction “Isn’t that your intention as well, my friend?” I spit out. 

As the area is so desolated, the vibrations which follow our spoken words, makes the area seem almost unhabitable and incredibly daunting; yes I had only said 8 words, but these 8 words ricocheted of the metal bindings which clung to every building, making this one auditory hallucination that would insult most nightmares.  
The smog was unbearably thick now, forcing me to rely on the sounds of gravel shuffling beneath the foot and as we continue to walk, our pace now unbearably slow, I realise we are both walking in circles.

“I didn’t anticipate seeing you here,” He tells me confidently.

“Nor I you…it’s a long way from home for you, isn’t it?” I respond, pausing my movements momentarily. 

Laughter hits my ears and it’s only when I finally run into the man I’ve been looking for, do I place my hand next to my gun “It is your home too you know?”

The man in front of me was Joseph Sabini, brother to Darcy Sabini and annoyingly, he hadn’t changed. At all.

“That place hasn’t been my home for years, don’t fool yourself,” I spat out in response.

I walk towards Joseph so that his facial features appear clearer to me and the act isn’t welcome by my stomach which twists and turns with anger at the confrontation and confirmation. “We will always welcome-”

“Don’t fucking call it home, Joseph!” I screech, pointing a finger in his direction. 

Joseph now grins like a Cheshire cat, but it’s so unsettling that I have to look away “What is it that women calls you then? Ronnie is it?” Joseph teases me before continuing “Is that what you’re going by now?”

“I’m hardly going to go by what your brother named me, am I?” I say in disgust.

A look of disgust falls upon Joseph and now I have to stifle a giggle; bowing my head, I rub my left hand over my lips, causing them to redden “What are you doing here, Joseph?” 

“The real question is what are you doing here? My brother is going to be elated when I tell him…” He responds and another grin bursts awake.  
“So you’re stalking Mary because of me are you?” I ask rhetorically. 

I shrug my shoulders before taking my right hand and tucking it into the side of my coat, where I allow my fingers to caress the shape of my gun “Nothing really matters because you aren’t going to be telling Sabini anything, are you?” I continue, almost whispering.

Nothing really happens, apart from a small glint appearing in Joseph’s eyes which lasts only half a millisecond and then in quick dash, Joseph lunges for me and I move out the way quickly, pulling out my gun and holding it towards him. 

“You are coming home!” Joseph spat out before lunging for me again.

For a moment he grabs my left arm mid run and quickly, I close the distance between us before stomping on his toes with my heel and forcing my elbow into his nose as forcefully as I can, resulting in my release “I’m not fucking going anywhere!” 

Then without hesitation, I point the gun towards his mouth, and I pull the trigger. 

Slumping to the ground, I watched as Joseph’s body hit the floor beneath and I let out a small wail as some of my stupidity has caused my location to be nearly revealed. 

In pure anger, I violently kick Joseph in the stomach which causes his body to fly backwards and lay spread out on the ground. However, as I take a step back and then another, more footsteps capture my attention and as I turn to see it who it is, I’m shocked by a discovery.

Thomas Shelby was stood behind me and he might have seen everything.  
But even worse, heard it too.


	5. Trading secrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the startling realization she might have been located, Veronica's fear causes more secrets to be revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Please proceed carefully as the following chapter involves violent and bloody scenes.
> 
> PS. As always thank you for reading if you do and leaving kudos.  
> I'm very excited as the plot is now thickening; ALAS, the game is afoot!

I dash away, quickly.  
How could I have been so reckless? So fucking careless!  
The reality was that I was starting to care too much and I knew this, but I just couldn’t stop myself.

I weave between the buildings, attempting to keep my footsteps as light as possible so that I couldn’t be located, yet as I constantly check over my shoulder to see if I was being followed, I accidentally run into somebody.

“Oomph,” I let out a disgruntled sigh.  
“Please excuse me Mam, I didn’t see you there!”  
A flat cap fell forward and into the crook of my right arm that was wrapped around the front of my body. (Subconsciously my body had anticipated a fight, so instantly, I went to protect myself)

“Oh Arthur, hello!” I say cheerfully, attempting to not appear too overwhelmed.

Easily, he places his hat back upon his head before tightening up his suit once more and allowing a smirk to curve into his left cheek “Good day Miss Ronnie, are you well?” He asks, tipping his hat forward.

I try to smile convincingly but I know I do it hesitatingly and he notices – frowning his entire face, he looks at me harrowed “Is everything alright?”

Purposefully, I calm myself more now and to make a physical show of it, I huff out a large breath, slide my hands into my coat pockets before rocking onto the back of my heels “Ahh you don’t have to worry about me Arthur! You just gave me a shock, nothing more!”

Sweetly upon his face a smile starts to follow my words and it is incredibly beautiful “That is fantastic! Listen, I’m actually glad I ran into you because our Finn has been mentioning you a lot lately…” He tells me before sticking his own hands into his pockets “Surely a women mentioned by that boy means something, so I wanted to invite you to a boxing match later tonight!”

I try to not look remotely confused by the offer, mainly because I was wondering how the question of attending a boxing match has anything at all to do with my relationship with Finn…but I keep my mouth shut “Oh a boxing match? Who’s fighting?”

Like a proud stallion, Arthur removes the hands from his pockets before gripping the hem of his coat beneath his chest, with them; he inhales a great breath, to then jut out his chin in glee “That would be myself Ronnie!” He tells me smiling.  
I sincerely offer him a smile in return “Oh really? Well I’ll be sure not to miss it, if you’re fighting!”

Then surprising me, a blush appears on Arthurs cheeks and it begins to make its way up to his eyes “You can also bring that friend of yours, if you like as well…” He drears off bashfully.

The reason for this invite finally dawns upon me and I laugh easily before responding “Ahh I see now, I’ll ensure Mary comes then, I’m not too sure she’ll be keen on the physical aspect of it but…you never know!”

Even though I don’t deliver the verdict too delightfully, Arthur smiles nonetheless and as the conversation comes to an end, he brings his feet together and bows his head “Have a good day and see you tonight then!”

As soon as Arthur stepped away, I shoot off in the direction of home and as I put a greater distance in between him and I, a great ache started to develop in the pit of my stomach.

Not only could I not be found but I didn’t want to be found and a very small part of me started to whine like a child in need of her mother because this aspect of me was being challenged.  
What I was realising was that I now had to be more attentive than ever; not only that but every conversation I held and every person I met had to be pushed beneath a microscope.  
I knew Mary would react sourly to this, mainly because when she did walk into my life at first, I held her at such an arm’s length, it appeared as if I was actually strangling her, not observing.  
It could possibly be deemed wise to inform her of the situation, but truthfully, there were and are too many secrets to tell and I know, I would be out of her company permanently if I went forward with it.

* *  
The journey to the boxing match is (not at all) surprisingly quiet and as we turn into the parking that belongs to the venue, I turn to look at Mary once more before coming to a stop and placing on the hand break.

“Are you sure you want to be here?” I ask sincerely, leaning back as I remove my seat belt.

I ask this because the moment she left my house a heavy sheet of silence wrapped around her mouth and visually, it looked as if someone was forcing her lips closed. Not to mention the pigment of her skin had completely changed in contrast.

“I’d rather be here than home,” Mary admitted quietly.

I nod my head to let her know I’d heard her response before following with the word “Ok.”

Climbing out of my vehicle, my eyes immediately start to process every face that I see, along with the voice that falls with them and as we slowly move from the presence of my vehicle, Mary wraps her arm around mine, tightening it in comfort.

The air is unbearably cool this evening resulting in multiple clouds of smoke coming from the mouths of those around us and as we waft our hands in front of our faces to clear our view, the queue into the building comes into view.

“I didn’t think there would be so many here…the match has hardly been news at all around me!” Mary commented, gasping at the volume of the crowd.

We continue our way over to the queue, falling in line before I remove the money from my pocket and count the pennies, just to be sure my addition is correct for the admission tickets “No doubt the work of the Peaky’s, I’m sure one man above all of this sees an opportunity,” I say, being mindful to only apply an implication.

Thankfully with the work from the men standing up front, we enter the building in no time and I become almost agitated when the atmosphere around us mimics a ball pool; multiple people stood encased in this building, bashing and brushing against my shoulders as both Mary and I make our way into the deepest part of the building: the ring.

“This is madness!” Mary chimes, her hand still gripping my left arm.

Luckily as we near the ring side, space seems to occur and it’s here, both Mary and I remove our coats and hang them on our arms “How about a drink?” I suggest, allowing my eyes to almost rummage between every individual Infront of me.

Mary nods in agreement and slowly yet in due time, we make our way to the bar that is located roughly 50 yards away from the main event; we have to forcefully push ourselves between the angsty viewers, but eventually, we do find an inch of the bar to lean our elbows against.

As we wait patiently, the air around us seems to quieten and as Mary looks at all sides in question, she emits a small ‘ah’ before pointing to my left – bowing her head and pretending to scratch it, I turn to the left and see none other than Thomas Shelby making his way over.  
Frustratingly, he’s got his eyes firmly on me… so much for minding my own dam business, I think.

“Ladies, what a lovely surprise,” Thomas comments, now standing closely to me.  
His words are irritatingly stretched out; suddenly a 3-syllable word became 8…It made no sense to me.

“Well, Arthur did issue a very sincere invitation… it would have been rude to decline,” I respond, my eyes now on the bartender who appears to be looking in our direction.

Before responding, I feel Thomas raise his eyes to me and like an itch, I feel his stare bury itself deep into my cheek and make its way to my brain; foolishly, I turn my head and meet his eyes.  
He doesn’t flinch, or look away and nor do I but he does allow the left side of his lip to curl slightly in delight “Yes, Arthur mentioned he ran into you yesterday,” He chuckles, before raising his hand to draw over the bartender.

“Might I buy you a drink?”  
Although he offered the question to the both of us, Thomas’s eyes remain tightly on me and for a fraction of a second, I feel Mary tug at my arm “That would be lovely of you Mr Shelby,” Mary answers for the both of us.

Finally disconnecting his stare, Thomas leans over the bar and quietly whispers in the bartenders ears and as he does this Mary coughs loudly to purposefully grab my attention and as I respond to her request, she mouths “What was that?”

And I shake my head, because truthfully, I don’t know.

Both Mary and I go back to behaving subtly as after the bartender left us, Tommy leant upwards once more and allowed his eyes to linger on us again “So Ronnie, in all the times Finn has mentioned you, he has advertantly avoided repeating your last name…”

Again, Thomas does well to keep his eyes firmly on me.  
I raise my eyebrow in response before turning to look at Mary, who does her best not to let her lips curl in a smirk “And what? Is that suspicion raised?” I ask in retort, before grabbing my drink that was now resting on the bar.

Thomas doesn’t answer straight away, instead he too takes his drink before sitting the glass beneath his nose, allowing the liquor to offer him a small sensory experience “A women who freely operates in my village almost sparsely and still manages to hold her tongue as well as her last name, despite my younger brothers incessant need to discuss you daily… Were you aware Veronica, that you aren’t in the phonebook?” He says to me, a matter-of-factly.

I let a small laugh slip out, but it’s barely audible due to the ever-increasing volume of the crowd around us.  
It seemed that although yes, Finn was making matters difficult in regards to my location but what it offered me was a slight move of the finger; it appeared without knowing, I had already started to wrap my finger around Thomas Shelby’s throat.  
Perhaps his brain as well, I think.

“So what is it that’s alarming you then Mr Shelby? My ability to slip through your fingers unnoticed or the fact Finn is more enamoured with me, then he, is you?”

I don’t really restrain myself with the comment…it sort of just slips out and Mary loudly acknowledges the bravery of my words with a quiet welp.  
Thomas however simply responds with a small smile and I notice it’s a very approving one, “Perhaps it is both…” He says, his words sounding almost silk like.

“Maybe Finn can tell you how she does it!” Mary adds and she’s chuckling wildly now, but easily she is shut off because Thomas delivers us both an answer were dumbfounded by “Perhaps you can instead.”

We don’t reciprocate, but we don’t need to because Thomas is now waving us due and making his way into the depths of the crowd “Perhaps you can instead?!” Mary enunciates loudly, before continuing “Veronica, are you hiding secrets from me?”

I am hit abruptly on the shoulder by her, but I don’t react as I’m still focused on the place where Thomas once was “If I am, can you let me know what it is when you do?”

Mary roars with laughter before taking a large sip of his drink “Come on, let’s go find a seat, I’m sure the match will be starting soon!”

As we wiggle through the crowd being mindful to not spill our drinks, Mary gets briefly distracted when she spots Finn and cheerfully, she approaches the young boy, bringing him into a large hug.

“Hello Miss Ronnie!” Finn chimes, seeing me over Mary’s shoulder.

Finn is next to his brother John and his Aunt who I knew to be Polly, and whilst John happily held out his hand and made his acquaintance, Polly does not.  
In her true fashion, she holds up her cigarette to eyelevel, whilst her right arm lays across her stomach, holding the elbow of the left arm. She also stands almost abrasively whilst narrowly observing me, her left leg directly underneath her whilst her right was outstretched at a 90 degree angle, “You must be her…’’ She spits of slowly.  
Finn chides her behaviour immediately, snapping at her “Don’t be like that!”

It seems his tone shocks even Polly because she turns her head harshly and I watch as her eyes widen in shock (even the hue of her brown eyes lighten) “I’m sorry Ronnie,” Finn tells me, approaching me softly.

“You have nothing to apologise for and you don’t need to scold your Aunt Polly! You know fine well I would be the same in her position, please be patient with her,” I correct Finn gently.

Again, Polly behaves shocked as her eyes widen a little more (not to mention her hand almost droops, causing the ash from her cigarette to flitter onto the floor).  
Finn nods his head in agreement and I smile at him comfortably “Well it seems your family already know me, so this” I say before pointing to Mary “Is my best friend Mary.”

Awkwardly yet admirably Mary offers a smile and wave, to which John responds to by tipping his cap forward whilst letting his eyes roam down her body “I’ve heard about her too…” Polly follows, her tone still as monotone as her previous comment.

I find her attitude to be grating on me slightly, so I offer her a similar blunt response “Good, so you should have.”

I look to Finn and offer him a knowing look before dismissing the Shelby family and leading Mary away “Well isn’t she bloody charming!” Mary spat, her eyes now peeled open for available chairs.

I hum in agreement before also doing the same “Yes but you also can’t blame her…” I say despite the sour taste developing on my tongue.

It thankfully doesn’t take too long for us to find seats and when we do, were around 3 rows back and located on the right of the side of the ring, offering me a perfect view of the exit as well as the entire facility.  
Getting a little more comfortable, I take multiple sips of my drink before jumping slightly as the referee booms onto the stage, earning a loud cheer from the crowd “Good Evening ladies and gentlemen!” He exclaims into the microphone.  
Quickly, the arena comes alive and those around us pump their fists and shout aggressively “Firstly ladies and gentlemen, the hosts of this event would firstly like to thank our sponsors of the event today…Shelby Inc!” He chimes.

The sounds which follow are animalistic, and they become aggressively worse as Thomas Shelby himself prances onto the ring; puffing out his chest, as well as his arms and legs, Thomas glowers into the crowd before slowing his movements and joining the referee.

I don’t notice it but the referee continues on with his speech, explaining the scene of events which are about to take place whilst I remain tightly on Thomas himself. Its almost bizarre what he does next; bizarre because in an arena full of thousands whose eyes don’t even allow the slip of his coat to go amiss, he turns in my direction.  
Five, four, thr- there, I think to myself.

He now looks at me and he makes no attempt at all to look away.  
There is no flicker of expression or glint in his eye, in fact his look is almost stone like…that is until oddly he winks at me and I’m almost shocked back into life “And in this corner, please welcome, the man, the myth, the legend: Arthur Shelby Jnr!”

There is another boom, only this one shakes the floor erratically and I hear Mary release a puff of air as it startles her; masses of people flock to the ring in support of Arthur, banging and screaming as if their life sincerely depended on it.  
Latching onto each other, Mary and I make no moves to leave our position and eventually, the waves of bodies settle leaving a mass of space at the back of the building.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, these men wish to win this belt and wear it as if it were a crown but we all know this battle, will not go down without any consequenc-”

Oddly the microphone starts to cut out, making it seem like the gent is stuttering but then, alarmingly, the entire arena goes dark. It’s a complete blackout and a mass of yells and confusion rises thickly to the surface.

I grab my gun immediately.  
“Veronica?” Mary cries, grasping my arm tightly.

“Don’t leave my side!” I tell her, but oddly the hysteria is short lived because as soon as the lights went off, they were back on.  
We both look around questioningly and notice multiple others are doing the same; I also look onto Thomas who is still stood firm in the centre of the ring, his gun held out in anxiousness.  
Then from nowhere I hear someone calling my name and gradually it gets louder and louder as the person gets closer “Ronnie!”  
People are slowly looking in my direction now but I hear it again and I’m careless, “Veronica!”

“It’s Finn!” Marry announces, pointing in his direction.

Running through the many arms and legs of viewers, Finn scrambles his way to me and as he looks upwards to catch my eye, his face is bright red: something is wrong.

“Finn, what’s the matter?” I yell, reaching for his arm and pulling him to me.

He stumbles wildly and he almost face plants my stomach, but I pull him upwards and he rights himself quickly “Ronnie, you have to leave! Now! It’s Edward and he’s looking for you!”

An overwhelming sinking feeling startles me to life and frustratingly it takes me a while to process this “Edward? Who’s Edward? Finn, what are you talking about?”

It was all starting to catch up with me, these secrets, I thought.

I ignore Mary completely and take her hand “We need to leave now!” I yell and as soon as I do, multiple gun shots erupt from nowhere.

Chaos finally comes.  
Like a stampede of animals: running, shoving and screaming develops in the middle of the room and then falls out to the rest of the crowd and as were violently launched to the side due to the velocity of the begging crowd, I grasp on to Mary even tighter.  
Then uncomfortably, Edwards voices rings out the building and I’m sick in my mouth.

“YOU, WITH ME!” I scream at Finn before finishing “NOW!”

Doing as he’s told, Finn pulls out his gun and stands at the other side of Mary who is now colourless but remaining strong “There’s a back door, follow me!” Finn announces.

Due to the amplified sounds and echo’s that are ripping apart the area, the continued gunshots sound as if they are firing from all directions and as Finn leads the way, I follow with my back turned to ensure we don’t get any nasty surprises – little by little I realise Finn is taking in the direction of the changing rooms, which means that now we find ourselves in a corridor.

Yet surprising me, a bullet comes in my direction and cuts my cheek, making me wince in response “Get down!”  
Subconsciously, my arm wraps around Mary’s shoulders and I harshly pull her down before positioning myself correctly and shooting our follower “Who was that?” Mary screamed, her hands tightly over her ears.

I don’t answer her, instead I place my arm back round her and bring her upwards again “Get us to this dam door Finn!” I yell, keeping my gun firmly in front of me.

Thankfully, Finn makes quick work of getting us to an exit and as we pace past a multitude of benches and slip out a fire exit door, we are greeted with mania “Holy shit,” Finn uttered.

It was an image that no gallery would display…Not only were their bodies strewn here and there but people were running riot in attempt to get home; cars were beeping loudly whilst fearful mouths ran careless, along with guns that were being shot countlessly by hurt humans.  
To make matters worse, I caught Edward in my peripheral and he was heading in my direction “Get Mary to the car now,” I instruct Finn, as I dig out my car keys and toss them to him.  
He catches them effortlessly but he looks at me with minor heart break “What do you-”

“Take Mary to my fucking car, Finn!” I yell uncontrollably.  
This time he jumps at my sudden rage yet as soon as a rain of bullets ripple from behind me, Finn see’s the reason why “I can’t leave you, Ronnie!” He pleads, stepping towards me.

I don’t answer him, I don’t beg, and I don’t let out a breath…I just stare at Finn and in utter, pure hatred, he screams in my face in response, before turning and grabbing Mary.

I watch them as they leave and as soon as they turn the corner, I check the number of bullets in my magazine before sliding it back in and ensuring I hadn’t subconsciously applied the safety.

Then like a whaling child, Edward announces his arrival and starts to ring out his cries “I’ve missed you Veronica!”

He follows the call by shooting an insufferable amount of bullets into the air “I’ve missed you,” He pauses briefly before firing even more “So fucking much!”

I turn to face him now whilst attempting to keep my face neutral “What the hell are you doing, Edward?” I cry out.

My question stops him in his tracks and then sickeningly, he lets out a roar of laughter before dropping to his knees to allow the emotion to fill him entirely.  
In all honesty, I had no wish to kill Edward…I simply wanted to give Finn and Mary, as well as everyone else the opportunity to create as much distance as they could between themselves in this man.

“Oh I’ve missed you!” He calls out again, swinging his head upwards.

“I’ve not come back to you Edward,” I spit out.  
My words cause his verbal noises to pause, and he looks at me so darkly, that I start to anticipate I may be shot – Edward now stands to his full height and as he lifts one foot upwards and then another, his eyes never leave me “You’re not allowed…”

As he says this, I see both John, Polly and Arthur fall out of what was the entrance to the event building and like a raging bull, Arthur lets out a wild scream and hails all hell on Edward with his gun.  
I dive to the side immediately, hitting the building wall but as I do so, I see Edward trying to make his way to me; I react negatively and jump out the way.

“You’re not allowed to leave me, Ellie!” He screeches, bowing and covering his body.

I shake and convulse, stopping in my tracks.  
He just calle-, what?

I scramble wildly against the cement wall before making my way over to Edward, whom I violently kick over the head before grabbing his hair and pulling him upwards “What the fuck, did you just call me?” I spit out, my voice now snake like.

All Edward does is laugh at me incredulously as I press him with my eyes, so in rage, I throw him down on the floor and stomp his knee, causing him to emit a wild yell as it snaps “What! Did! You! Just! Call! Me!” I scream.

I don’t get any form of sound this time as Edward was now pressing his face into the ground beneath him, so I boot his right shoulder with my foot and stomp on his other leg, breaking that also “Answer my fucking question, Edward!”

He cries violently now, and the rest of the Shelby’s are only a mere few steps away from me “Yo-you can’t escape m-me!” Edward spills out.

“Miss Ronnie?” Arthur spits out, his voice oddly weak.

I daren’t look at any them, so I simply wave them off “He’s all fucking yours!”

I hear Arthur continually yell my name as I walk away but I ignore it and eventually I think Polly quietens him – I start to slam my feet against the concrete ground in hope the sound beats out the incessant booming in my head... Edward just called me Ellie…  
Then before I can stop myself, I throw up and accidentally cover the tips of both my shoes “Miss Ronnie?” Finn calls.

I can’t call out to stop his approach because I’m sick again and by the time I stand up straight, he is there and wrapping his arm tightly around my body “I have you Ronnie!” He comforts me.  
Taking all of my weight on his side, Finn carries me to my vehicle which is located at the back of the building, where an angsty Mary is waiting and although, I appear weak, my hand still subconsciously grips the gun in my hand.

By the time we arrive to my car, my dizziness has subdued, so I confidently take the driver’s seat with Mary to my right “Get us out of here!” She screams as yet another gun shot goes off.  
With no further convincing needed, I turn on the engine and crush my foot against the accelerator pedal before releasing the handbrake and wildly, we spin out of control before making our way to the exit.

Yet as we drive past Arthur, John & Polly, we hear Edward scream violently and as he struggles between the hands of both John & Arthur, his hand slips through and he points his gun towards us “GET DOWN!” I yell loudly.  
I try to spin the car in a direction that lands the bullet in a less harmful location but it still cracks the glass window and shoots into the car’s interior, resulting in a noise that sounds like grinding “Are we going to make it home?” Finn begs, turning to look at the small hole that was now to the right of him.

“I’ll get out and fucking push if I have to!” I respond angrily.

We continue to slip and slide in the car before finally arriving on the road that leads us away and when there is finally enough room, I put my foot down a great deal more and concentrate on our escape home.

Due to travelling so fast, Finn has to hold Mary down when we hit certain corners and I feel both of their bodies hit mine when the momentum becomes a little too much.  
Nobody talks the entire journey home and truthfully, I secretly try to encourage the notion; Mary begins to bask in her fright and anger whilst Finn eyes me curiously and tries to initiate conversation with his body language. I ignore both.

Its only when we finally arrive at my house, does chatter start to happen and it’s mainly from Finn, who is expressing his concern about Mary “Here let me help you!” I hear him mutter, as he assists Mary out of the car.

I unlock the front door quickly and enter before standing aside and watch as Mary heads in the direction of the kitchen but snappishly, she stops before turning and staring at me, her eyes full of loathing “You’ve been keeping secrets from me Veronica Jackson!” She spat before yanking of her coat and storming into the kitchen.

Finn doesn’t follow, instead he stands directly in front of me and offers me a small encouraging smile “I think you knew this day would come, didn’t you Miss Ronnie?”

“I only ever had that thought after the arrival of you, Finn Shelby,” I say honestly.

I don’t say the words bitterly but I can’t avoid the honesty; somehow the slip of Finn’s presence has set alight my location, I couldn’t deny that possibility.  
It's a small town, I think again but then I think back to the conversation with Thomas Shelby and wonder…is it really?  
I don’t want the boy to feel the blame but there is a sense of responsibility he needs to own up to but I can’t hold him accountable just for wanting to enjoy and celebrate a person he met.  
For fuck sake.

“How did Edward even know I was there Finn?” I ask, whispering now.

He pauses a moment before looking down and for a moment, I’m fearful it’s because he let slip, but he surprises me “I promise you I wouldn’t talk, so I didn’t. But Arthur did…his episodes have gotten bad, so I gave him something to ease the pain, however the problem is that he’s gotten louder and Thomas refuses to acknowledge it.”

“Mary…shit,” I say, finally realising.  
Finn nods to confirm my realisation “Arthur hasn’t been able to shut up about her, so I’m sure the brief moment will have caused him a sense of achievement. I’m sorry Ronnie! He must have mentioned you” Finn tells me, taking a step closer to me.

I shake my head and wave my hand “It’s not your fault, if anything it’s mine for thinking I could bathe in the quiet around you rowdy boys. My priority is to ensure that Mary is safe and stays safe,” I inform him, sliding my hands into my pockets.

As we continue to talk, Mary begins to clatter around my kitchen, resulting in rattles and bumps, giving the impression she’s making a very angry cup of tea “Let’s go comfort Mary,” I instruct, before making my way into the kitchen.

The only things that can be heard are the clicks of my heels on the wooden floor and as I linger in the doorway to the kitchen, Finn makes his way around me and pulls out a chair for him as well as myself but I deny the offer. Instead, I continue to listen to the loud thumps as Mary fills the kettle, slams it onto the stove as well as pulling out some mugs and clomping them onto the table.  
Finally, she rests both of her hands onto the back of a chair and gradually, her fingers start to turn white as she squeezes them around the wooden frame “Well? Are you going to bloody tell me Veronica or are you going to lie to me about that too!” She yells.

Mary straightens up now and I see that tears have formed in her eyes; I take a deep breath before finally taking the chair next to Finn “I never lied to you once…I wasn’t entirely truthful but I would not go so far as to put false things in our friendship Mary!”

“Who is fucking Edward Veronica?” She demands.

I inhale a deep breath “Edward is whom is considered to be my boss…”

Mary picks up the chair and slams it down before continuing “Considered? How can he be considered?”

This time Finn respond’s, “That part is complicated, Mary.”

Mary looks at him in true shock before looking at me to then return back “How much more complicated can it be? We just got fucking shot at!”

Finn goes to explain again but I cut him off “Edward is who I work for…He’s who I’ve always worked for since I arrived here.”

Pausing for a moment, Mary brings her right hand to her mouth before pacing my kitchen “What kind of fucking boss, do you work for Veronica?” She spits out, slamming her hand onto the table.

Then gradually, the gas kettle begins to whistle and quickly, Finn sees to it “The one who deems it suitable to put a knife in my leg” I tell her truthfully.

Her facial expressions drop so rapidly, she stumbles slightly and catches herself; the pigmentation in her skin has disappeared now and she fiddles with the rings on her fingers repeatedly “Why did he come after you?”

“Because I’m the one who gets him what’s he’s always wanted,” I tell her.

“And Finn?” She says, yelling loudly in his direction.

“I told you about him, that day when we were in The Garrison; when I arrived to work in the morning, Finn was in his office because he was doing a job for Thomas. I saw to Finn so he wouldn’t get killed. That’s it!”

Finn forces a warm cup of tea into Mary’s hands and thankfully, redness starts to flitter up her neck and into her cheeks “What work is it that he makes you do Veronica?”

I put my tongue in my cheek and take my thumb and forefinger to my forehead; I inhale, then exhale before looking up again “He sends me on many business excursions…but some of them don’t always end politely.”

Mary’s lips fall into a thin white line and as she pauses her vocal expressions, her body slips into the chair in front of her and gently, Finn takes his hands and wraps them around hers.

“You kill people, for a living?” She mumbles.

I shake my head because truly no “I don’t if I can help it but I can’t deny that I have killed.”

Mary is full on crying now and I feel dreadful “Why would you work for such a monster, Veronica? Can’t you just get out?”

Now Finn looks away from her and focuses on something in his lap, not because what she says is true but because he understands my answer to this question and Mary notices it “Wh-wha?”

“I chose to work for Edward because he keeps everybody else away… he never was a team player,” I whisper quietly and I watch as Mary narrows her eyes, before letting out another bite “Yes you’re right Veronica, it does keep everyone away and it's going to keep me away if you don’t stop keeping secrets!”

“Please…Miss Ronnie, tell her!” Finn begs, his eyes now glued to me.

I sit in utter silence now and it’s unbearably painful “I stay with Edward because someone is after me,” I finally spit out in a frazzled whisper “Edward is the only person I’ve ever known to never play nicely with others. The last person we made a deal with, he made such a show of mutilating their body, that some of his employers who witnessed it committed suicide days later.”

The pin had popped the balloon and taken all the air in the room along with it and the redness which was slowly making is way back to Mary’s cheeks, had gone again “So-some is-,” She cuts herself off.

Her eyes begin to twinkle and widen as if the realisation had finally struck and like one dot-connecting itself to another, Mary is alive “It now all makes sense…the lack of contact, the denying my invitations to gatherings, the refusal to share anything the first month we met…the evening when we went to The Garrison and you were covered in blood! How could have I been so stupid! Have you done something Veronica?” She spits out rapidly.

“No,” I admit before shaking my head.

Frustratingly, she slams her hand onto the table before then wincing and cradling it because she’s hurt it “Stop lying to me!” Mary says through her cries.  
This time, I lose all coherency before sharply standing upwards and launching my chair backwards “Mary Smith, I have NOT lied to you!” I roar, demanding her attention before continuing “I have been many things in my time, but not once have I ever been a fucking liar!”

Silence.  
Complete and utter silence.  
It's almost blissful to me as finally, I have erupted, and I have released all of which holds me back.  
I stay standing and close my eyes as my body waves and sways from side to side, however, I feel Finn place his hand on the left side of my stomach to steady me before I come back to reality and sit back down.

“I was born to fight from the day I was born and as soon I became accessible, this man abused it…it is then when he made sure all I ever knew and did was kill. I did not hide things from you because I didn’t want you to know, I hid them because I wanted to give myself the opportunity to develop another side of myself that was not constructed by him,” I tell them honestly.

Despite my confession, Finn looks at me confused as does Mary “But I thought you and your fathers relationship was good? You never mentioned he behaved like that…” Mary asked, whispering every word.

I nod in agreement to her comment “It was and it wasn’t but he was shot at the age of 14; the man I’m talking about is the one who took me against my own will after he passed. He wore me as if I was his own crown…it is he who looks for me.”

“If it is any consolation, Miss Ronnie, I prefer this side of you,” Finn tells me sincerely.

And truthfully, I’m shocked, moved and frankly, extremely overwhelmed, so confidently I wrap my arm around his body and pull him into me “As do I Finn Shelby…as do I!”


	6. The Void.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time where Veronica feels wildly compromised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains, violent and bloody scenes as well as volatile behavior that may be upsetting to certain readers.  
> Please proceed carefully.
> 
> We have another chapter!  
> Finally, the chaos is starting to arrive, which has made writing even more exciting for me.  
> I am finally able to explore Veronica to a greater depth, as well as discuss some of her backgrounds and help you encounter her true vulnerabilities.
> 
> I also initially thought that using Veronica as the eagle eye would make the story significantly easier, but it hasn't. If anything it has made it harder and longer, trying to include the multiple viewpoints and story elements.  
> As always, if you read thank you but if you're new here, hi, hello, welcome! I'm maria.  
> Please feel free to leave comments, questions, or confusion!

**FLASHBACK**  
Wyvern Barracks, Devon, 1901.

“Again!” He demands for the billionth time.  
It was currently 4:36 PM and we had been training all day, yet as I lay on the mat, my hand clutching my right hip, I wince as I detect a developing bruise.  
“Get up young soldier!” Dad bellowed loudly.

I don’t ignore the command, so quickly as I can, I make my way upwards on unsteady feet before preparing myself by standing in the defense position and like clockwork, my body falls to its muscle memory and I block the punch that is coming at me. 

“Onto the next sequence!” My father demands once more.  
So I do; I bat away another back hand before leaping onto my right foot and swinging my body onto the right side of my opponents back before using my weight to drag him down, yet he reciprocates beautifully by falling into the movement and committing to a backward roll, to then stand neatly.

“AGAIN!” 

“Dad that’s the 14th time!” I bounce back, storming up to him as I speak.

He doesn’t use his words…Dad **never** did, so instead, he moves his chin in a downwards motion in order to look at me, as he is a large 6ft 4 and surprises me by landing a punch to my diaphragm. I can do nothing but respond, so I use my momentary height to my advantage and fall into a curled position and slide through his open legs, before pivoting on my right foot, rotating 180-degrees anti-clockwise and landing a kick to the back of his knees.  
I make quick work of it, so that I’m not left blind too long and with the momentum, I forced through my kick, my Dad lands with a loud thump.  
However I am immediately on his back, where I forcefully lock his left arm around his ribcage and put my knee in the center of his spine.

“Ni-nice one, soldier!” Dad manages to spit out. 

If I was feeling brave, I would have said fuck you in response however, I was already fatigued due to the 4 full days training I had done before this and I had no interest in having to fight my way to arrogance, so instead I released his arm and stood back.

Swiftly my Dad stood yet again before dismissing my opponent who was named David Shaw; after his departure, my father turned to me and narrowed his eyes “Young lady, I do not know who you think you are talking to but if you behave in such a way, I have no other choice but to respond appropriately,”  
I visibly eye roll before spitting back “Might I need to remind you that I am your daughter, not someone who you intend on deploying?” 

As anticipated, another punch lands in my stomach and is followed by a back hand to my jaw and immediately, I bend over at the waist…  
This was an action that repeated itself most days, (even without my additional persuasion) so following suit with my own repetition, I defend myself. Again, again and again.

**END OF FLASHBACK.**

My eyelids slowly flitter open and as the light starts to infiltrate my retina’s, I hear a quiet collection of sounds coming from downstairs.

After yesterday’s events, both Finn and Mary requested that they be taken home as the comfort of something familiar was needed; I happily obliged because truthfully, I just needed some peace and quiet.  
At first, I didn’t read, nor did I listen to music; I simply sat and drunk tea for a number of hours whilst my eyes stared aimlessly at the kitchen wall.  
Before eventually, allowing myself to make dinner, to then take a shower and pick up my copy of The Mysterious Affair by Agatha Christie. 

By the time I am dressed and making my way downstairs, I hear the pleasant hum come from the mouth of Mary who is (I identify by the scent drifting up the stairs) cooking breakfast.  
When I arrive at the kitchen, I hover in the doorway and observe her at work; I’m a little surprised she is so at ease as yesterday’s implosion of emotions had left her silent by the end of last night. 

“I’m surprised by this,” I comment quietly, in hope to not startle her.

Mary spins around to face me before mindlessly playing with the straps of her pinny that were wrapped around her body “I wanted to talk to you, as I have more questions you see,” She confesses.

I nod in admission “Alright, you weren’t up thinking about them all night, were you?” I ask sincerely. 

“No, honestly I fell asleep just as my head touched the pillow…I hadn’t realised I was so exhausted,” She retorts.

I didn’t want to push the conversation, especially because a gut instinct told me Mary clung to the moments of yesterday a little more than I anticipated, so I let the quiet fill the space between us and as I potter around, I began preparing my morning brew “The questions are about yesterday,” Mary tells me.  
The way Mary discloses this piece of information is as if she is in a manic rush; she doesn’t take a breath between words, her body is hunched over the stove but her muscles appear so tightly compact, it gives the impression she’s trying to choke herself.  
Was she afraid I perhaps would react negatively to her request?

“I suspected so, considering your behaving like your walking on eggshells…” I say honestly.  
For a moment, Mary pauses her movements entirely before inhaling a large breath and exhaling, causing her shoulders to droop “Much better, you don’t need to be afraid of anything with me Mary, I promise you,” I reassure her. 

Turning to me, she places the spatula beside the stove before grabbing the tea towel that was hung on the door to the oven and started wiping her fingers “Sorry, it’s just yesterday’s events really frightened me…I think I’ve lost every scrap of coherency, not to mention I don’t know to behave,” She tells me.

“Well I’d be concerned if they didn’t frighten you…but in my opinion, I think you responded incredibly well,” I tell her confidently, before taking a seat and leaning into the back of the chair. 

In hope it offers her some ease, I don’t directly make Mary the main focal point in my view, so using my peripheral vision, I keep an eye on her and watch as she takes in my comment and although she doesn’t stand any straighter, she does develop a glint in her eye “What Edward did yesterday, will he do that again, to you?” Mary asks.

“If he is still alive and not in the hands of the Peaky’s, probably yes,” I tell her.

As she scoops one egg onto her plate and then another onto mine, she ask’s another question “And if he does, would you tell me if he had?”

I nod my head as she places a plate in front of my seat and then her own before sitting down opposite me “In the hope he would fail, if he attempted you mean? If you want me to yes, but I will skip on the details.”

I pick up the cutlery before slicing into the sausages that dressed my plate and as I did so, I could hear the cogs in Mary’s brain turn whilst she continued to think “Not a question about yesterday but, the man that was following me…he isn’t anymore, did you-”

“Yes, so he is no longer an issue for you,” I cut her off bluntly. 

For a moment I think Mary might shed a tear, but instead she pauses and gathers herself beautifully before looking in my direction again “How many people have you killed, for me?”

“Three,” I respond before shoving a piece of egg into my mouth.

“Do you remember their names?” She asks, almost instantly. 

I pause my movements this time before looking up from my plate and focusing on the expression Mary is delivering me “Are you sure you want to know?” I ask her and she replies by nodding her head and following with another question, “You do know their names, don’t you?”

“Yes, I remember every person I’ve ever killed,” I say immediately and go back to looking down at my plate.

“How many people have you killed, all together?” She asks nervously. 

Now, my movements jerk to a stop, causing my knife to squeal against the plate in front of me “Don’t ever ask me that again,” I spit out venomously, before continuing “The names of whom are your concern were William Chapel, James Richard and Walter Smith.”

Mary stays quiet for a moment or so and I feel this may be the end of this conversation but she surprises me again with another question “What did…some of them do?” She ask’s hesitantly.

I inhale before beginning the tale “I am sure, one of the names I mentioned rings a bell, as 2 weeks into knowing you, you told me that a William Chapel frequently did game night with your Mr but you (very quietly I might add) mentioned that you hated going home because he would always assault you.  
“He was an engineer, who worked at a garage 3 streets over and after following him for 4 days, I heard the confession he was making a plan to kidnap you…mainly because he hated Harry and wanted you to himself.” I tell her before continuing.  
“James Richard, known transporter of goods for Thomas Shelby, specialised mainly in weaponry but delved elsewhere when needed. Mostly body wrangling. He lives just outside of town, in Ballsall and he was the man who robbed you of your purse on the 4th week of last month.”  
“And finally Walter Smith is a banker at Nationwide, all in all a massive arrogant sod who raped you 3 years ago.” 

I had now completely finished my breakfast whilst Mary had stopped eating entirely due to the fact, she was looking at me gobsmacked “D-did you aim to hurt any of them purposefully?”

Pulling my chair out a little, I lean backwards slightly and fold my hands into each other before laying them upon my upper legs “Just Walter, he expressed certain thoughts that I didn’t condone with.” 

Seeing to my plate, I stand to my full height before taking it to the sink and rinsing it of all the remnants of food “Do you think you’re a kind person for doing that, Veronica Jackson?” She asks me nervously.

I don’t answer this question until I am sat back down and holding Mary’s eyes “I see myself as a fair person, Mary Smith,”

“BUT, do you think you’re a kind person?” She shoots back instantly.

I allow the question to almost simmer in my brain before tilting my head left and right, using this movement to momentarily distract “I can’t accept that I am but I couldn’t deny that I am not,” I answer truthfully. 

A look of sheer sadness covers Mary’s features as if a blanket had been draped over her over her head, rippling in a downwards motion; I watch as her eyes ghost over my facial features, divulging in my reactions in search for a response “Why don’t I believe that answer?” Mary whispered.

“Because I once too often thought that I was a monster Mary, yet what is most discomforting is that the thought has lately re-entered my brain,” I respond blandly. 

“Why has it become a first thought?” She asked inquisitively. 

It's at this moment I blanked out, allowing my eyes to fall still whilst my mind dazes off into a subconscious state that provides me a brief moment of untainted bliss “It has been with due time that I realised that the only way to offer myself the secrecy that I need is by eradicating any who threatens it. This realisation has appeared in the foreground of my mind at a much greater volume since I moved to Small Heath and I’m afraid…” I pause momentarily before continuing “it is becoming a greater need than I originally anticipated.”

“Can’t you make it stop?” Mary says, trying to not cry out.

I allow my eyes to allow their focus to return, just so I am capable of drawing my eyes to Mary “I didn’t begin that game Mary, I was just placed into it…”  
I almost laugh at my answer due to the fact I am so bedraggled by my own thoughts, the possible outcome to this entire situation appears almost absolute because, of course I am going to get caught out, right?

Now, Mary becomes a little fearful and it fills her body entirely, resulting in fierce shakes and angsty movements, yet my attention is taken elsewhere when I hear a knock at the door “Just a moment,” I shout.

Quickly, I make my way to the front door before propping it open and meeting someone unfamiliar “Veronica Jackson?” The gentleman ask’s curiously.

“That is I,” I respond whilst nodding my head.

“A letter for you!” 

Confidently, the small man offers me an envelope that is roughly the size of my palm and once it is firmly in my grip, he tilts his cap before heading away but I don’t watch him go. Instead, I bring my eyes down and tightly observe the writing that is on the front of the letter and immediately, I am left befuddled because one): I haven’t received any mail for the past 5 years and two): the writing is exactly like my fathers, which can’t be possible because my father is dead.  
This I am fully aware of because I’m the one who shot him. 

“Ronnie, who is it?” Mary shouts from the back room. 

“It’s just the postie” I tell her, unknowingly quiet. 

I keep my eyes tightly on the object in my hand, almost fearful that if I move them elsewhere, the writing may shift or change “Wait, you get post?” Mary popped up, her head now peeking over my right shoulder.

“S’what I thought too,” I murmured before “Never mind, lets get you to work; I’ll drive you!”

Although this changes the subject drastically, Mary is happy to take it with both hands, as well as my offer to escort her because hesitantly, I feel my paranoia set in…mostly because I anticipate another man to follow in Joseph Sabini’s footsteps.  
I was fearful that if someone did attempt to follow Mary, they may have associated her with the death of Joseph, resulting in them behaving volatile. This I was desperate to avoid, as I was certain the outcome to that situation would result in multiple scarifies, one which included me losing the remnants of my mind. 

With quick movements and shuffling feet, Mary and I quickly tucked ourselves beneath the layers of our coats, before elevating our bodies onto the seats that belonged my car. As I turn the key and bring the car to life, Mary eyes the bullet hole that is located in the interior behind her “Sorry,” I tell her before continuing “Covering up the bullet holes was the last thing on my mind yesterday.”

As Mary turns away from this mental image, her eyes quickly locate the drivers wingmirror, which was currently being held together by tape and as I realise this, I huff out a breath in frustration before rubbing my face with my right hand “That’s from Edward as well but it wasn’t during the events of yesterday,” I tell her honestly. 

It seemed weird to me that I was now re-calling such private moments; I had never done so before, not even with my parents. It had been drilled into me from a very young age that it was vital to keep your professional and personal life separate as it made the secret keeping, almost significantly easier.  
But now, it appeared as if someone was unearthing a very deep part of me and quite frankly, it made me want to throw up, not because I had any discomfort in revealing my secrets…but more so because I knew the revealing would never stop. 

“When did he do that?” Mary questions curiously.

I inhale a large breath before telling the story “A couple of days ago; Thomas and his men ambushed us on site…I tried to get myself out, but Edward ended up finding me. As you can tell by the visible evidence, it wasn’t the smoothest of transitions…” I say, rearing off. 

Mary keeps her eyes firmly on me and I’m a little shook by her facial expression because it is so incredibly blank (something which is out of the ordinary for her) “How do you live it with? The chaos? Every day!” She questions me, her voice a whisper. 

I move my eyes elsewhere now because with that question alone, my body places itself into a state of numbness once more, forcing it’s reactions to be minimal “There’s a saying ‘Just because your living, doesn’t mean you’re alive’…do you know how long I haven’t been alive, Mary Smith?” 

I am being looked at as if I have lost all coherency and I don’t blame Mary for the expression but I continue nevertheless “I had a phone call, with Finn a couple days ago and I will say the same to you as what I said to him… you can be as brutal as you want when you lose your conscience. It is also surprising what else you can do without it.”

Finally we turn a corner and drive onto the street which holds Mary’s flower shop and as I slow down, a person who is standing beside the shop comes into view: Arthur.  
For a moment, Mary is momentarily distracted by him but she attempts to bring her focus back to me “But you are human Veronica Jackson…you are a mother, a sister and a best friend. Do not rid yourself of the person you used to be, simply because you’re not certain you can withstand her…you need her as she is brave.”

I’m not sure how but Mary knew I needed to hear those words and as she went to open the door and slide outwards into the cold, I feel a shiver find its way up my spine…yet I know it isn’t caused by the temperature change. 

I take her words gladly and for a split second, it causes an unknown emotion to bubble inside me. However, my attention flitters elsewhere as my eyes find the image in front of me, to be one of innocence and admiration; Arthur had now confidently approached Mary who in return offered a cheery hello.  
They were both stood, tightly huddled whilst, Mary had her left hand on his right arm, which resulted in a small pink hue developing on Arthur’s cheeks. 

I was just about to drive away before surprisingly, my name was bellowed by Arthur; clicking off the engine, I too slide out the vehicle before approaching the twosome who were still tightly fixed together “Good Morning Arthur,” I exclaim whilst also nodding my head.

Politely, Arthur bowed briefly at the hip whilst tipping his cap before very subtly taking his right hand and rubbing Mary’s left shoulder to create heat “Arthur was just saying he wanted to apologise for yesterday…” Mary started, looking towards me. 

“For?”

Quickly, Arthur answers my question “For Edward and for the lack of the boxing match. Thomas didn’t know that Edward was going to make such a bold move, he was more surprised he had the balls to show up…”

“You couldn’t have possibly predicted or known that he was going to do such a thing, it isn’t your blame to take!” Mary commented, soothingly. 

I nodded my head in agreement but before I can retort, Arthur continues “I say we are partially to blame as sadly, Edward escaped last night…”

Mary instantly emitted a sound that mimicked the squawk of a parrot before turning to me and placing her hand over her mouth “Veronica, wha-”

“You have nothing to worry about Mary, it isn’t like I haven’t handled him before!” I say encouragingly, my hand now rubbing circles onto Mary’s back.  
I say this at an unbearably quiet volume and I see in my peripheral vision, (I assume so that he can hear me better) Arthur starts to lean over, but is disappointed when I eye his movement in return and remain silent “So, what is then, if you don’t mind me asking Miss Jackson, your relationship with Edward?”

Immediately my eyes draw to his and I remain unmoved as I speak “Well actually, I do mind that you’re asking but I already know that you won’t remain quiet until you are given an answer, so rather myself than anyone else I suppose,” I spit out before adding “Our relationship is simply professional…we have some bad blood.” 

Arthur meets my stare perfectly by raising his eyebrow curiously, before allowing his lips to unfurl into a dangerously confident smile “With the way your foot landed in his bones, you nearly threw him into his own grave… The blood you lay in is no longer red, it is black Miss Veronica.”

The statement bought a look of sheer fear into Mary’s eyes and I remind myself to keep calm and inhale deeply through my nose “I have no interest in the contrast or the condition of my ledger Arthur, as long it’s state does not effect others, I am satisfied,” I say bluntly.

As I say this, I watch as Mary carefully yet discretely moves away from Arthur and I realise his statement has caused a spoonful of discomfort to grace her lips “The more important question that belongs to this matter, is how will you being rectifying it?” I say deterring the conversation. 

A kinder allure falls over Arthur now and visibly, his muscles start to unfurl as the sensation fills his entire being “In order to kill two birds with one stone, we have made ends meet with our Jewish friend to take him down. It appears we have two enemies in common…” Arthur smirks, nudging Mary with his right elbow. 

I hesitantly ask, “Two enemies?”

His answer makes me quiver visibly and it strikes him as curious “Sabini,” He sniggers.  
Unhelpfully but naturally Mary ask’s more questions “Wait, who’s he?”

“A man of interest… apparently Sabini tried to do a deal with Edward and he declined. After hearing wind of his downfall, Mr Sabini took it upon himself to welcome him and his men to the town of Small Heath.”

“Fucking hell,” I spit out venomously. 

Arthur nodded his head in my direction before touching his nose and pointing his forefinger at me “Precisely. Thomas awoke yesterday morning to the bloody bastard excavating the building site.”

Cutting Arthur off, Mary’s boss rapped her fat knuckles onto the display window to our left, shocking us all back into reality with a loud boom; pointing to Mary and then her wrist to explain her lateness, Mary’s boss scoured at us with her round eyes before falling back into the depths of the shop.

“Right er, that’s me then,” Mary announced, a little breathless due to the ordeal. 

She offers me a one armed hug before very nervously giving a barely audible bye to Arthur, and scuffling through the entrance door to the flower shop.  
Cautiously, I let my eyes remain on Mary, allowing them to follow her as she walks to the back of the shop, where she removes her coat and bag before bearing the brunt of her bosses anger “She best be bloody fookin’ careful,” Arthur spat, referring to Mary’s boss.  
I hum in mild agreement before leaning back and bringing my eyes back to the man in front of me “I trust because of the outcome, the situation with Sabini didn’t dwindle down then?” I say, rhetorically.  
In my peripheral vision, I watch as Arthur shakes his head whilst keeping his eyes locked on Mary “Two blinders dead and a pissed off brother.”

Fucking brilliant, I think. 

I visibly inhale before closing my eyes and I do everything I can to not lash out at the outcome of events “Any who, I must be off Arthur. Things to do,” I announced blandly, avoiding all eye contact.

Arthur doesn’t offer me a farewell, in fact I don’t think he even looks in my direction and acknowledges my departure but truthfully, I don’t care.  
I take one last look through the shop window at Mary before pacing round to the driver’s side of my car and making the car talk.  
Within seconds, my position on the road has changed and I am causing my wheels to wildly squeak against the road beneath before shooting off in the direction of my home. My emotions have caused time and image to blur around me, resulting in my body to desensitise from my current environment, meaning that when I finally arrive home, I am lost to how I’ve even got there. 

I am found parked outside my back gate, with the car engine still rumbling whilst my eyes stayed ahead, focusing on the dog from 5 doors down whom was carelessly playing with a small baseball. As I watched the ball carelessly roll in the dog’s mouth, a small sound can be heard coming from my left and very slowly, I turn my head towards it and find that oddly, my gates are unlocked.  
Due to the minor wind that was whipping around the small valley of houses, the steel gates were clanging against each other and instantly, I become alive.  
I never leave my gates unlocked…something is wrong, I think.

I observe the area around me and click of the engine, before silently, opening the driver’s door and slipping out of my seat. Sliding down the cars structure so that I fall into a crouched position, I shut the car door behind me, to then walk to the end of my vehicle and peer around the boot. 

Visually, the only disturbance I can locate is the damaged lock on my gate as well as, the dismantled door frame that led to my kitchen. Both neighbours of mine as well as adjoining houses are unaware and clueless about the mishap, which indicates this was done purposefully. 

I pull out my gun, remove the safety and become alert. 

Readying myself, I wait for the gate to naturally open by the cause of wind and as soon as my window of opportunity rises, I slip inside and dash immediately to the back wall of my house, pinning every muscle to the mortar behind me.  
Then I wait and wait before waiting some more. 

Thankfully, I hear no disturbances, but out of habit, I check everything around me; there are no curious eyes peering around curtains, I hear no distant footsteps or back doors opening to locate the noise, nor are there any shouts of curiosity.  
So again, I begin to move and glide up the stairs to my back door before pressing my body tightly into the left-hand side of the frame, hoping my body weight didn’t cause the door to shift in the slightest.  
I wait again for any noticeable disruptions after my ascend and when no gun shots follow the sound of my padding feet, I know that I can proceed.  
It was time to play. 

The knowledge many were deprived of in regards to my home (including Mary) was that my house was chosen specifically and designed intricately with purpose; when very gently shifting the back door with my foot, the kitchen wall to my right comes into view and on the left side of it, was a mirror. Due to the centre of it being ever so slightly curved, it offered me a full panoramic view of my kitchen. Including the gent whom stupidly left his foot in view whilst he was hiding behind the stove. 

Also because of the photograph I placed on the wall and directly to the right of the stove, I was offered a reflection of the corridor that lead to my living room. This in turn could be seen in the mirror that was on the right-hand side of the kitchen. Along with the two men that were stood waiting for my arrival. 

It was the same in my living room; in the left hand corner of the room upon entering through the front door (where Finn and Mary rudely tried to install a phone), was a landscape photograph that stood on top of the cabinet, then above the fireplace was a another large mirror that I purposefully angled downwards. Not to mention, the post box I had installed in the door was pure bronze and showcased a full but very warped view of my living room.  
To any normal visitors these adjustments were seen as personal touches, but for I, it meant full visibility as well as protection.

But as a second thought, it probably would have been wise to tell Mary about the escape tunnels I put in from the cellar to the town hall.  
And possibly the escape route through the wardrobe.

Quietly, I smirk and go to work.

As quietly I can, I crouch down into a tight ball and shuffle into my kitchen; the back door lands with a soft thump as it collides with the cabinet behind it but I am careless to who has acknowledged my presence because instantly, I locate the gentleman’s foot which is sticking out. 

1\. Hold onto the moment of pure silence.  
2\. Be sure the safety is still of.  
3\. Inhale a large breath  
4\. Pull the trigger.  
5\. Watch all hell break loose.

The next couple of minutes fall into each other mercilessly.  
I land a bullet in the gents foot, resulting in him plunging forward and quickly, I fire another into his brain as his head collides with the tile floor.  
Standing to my full height, I instantly fire two more bullets yet only succeed with one; as a body slumps to the ground, I move round the dining table in an anti-clockwise motion, all whilst my opponent misses continually and causes frames and decorative interior to fall to the ground.  
I flinch multiple times.

“Stop moving, you bitch!”  
My unwelcomed visitor continued to let out a spur of expletives, as he curled around the door which now (due to the copious holes I had made) was poorly shielding him.  
Without hesitation, I run up to the back of the door and place all my weight onto my right foot, kicking the wooden material and watch as my opponents arm shoots out as he thuds against the wall behind him.

When he slides down to the floor in response, I immediately fire another bullet, ensuring it lands directly in his chest – as I do this a number of footfalls can be heard from upstairs “Is this fucking choir practise?” I spit out, drawing my head upwards. 

As soon as I look down, I see a shadow fall onto the corridor wall and I watch as two more figures descend the stairs; foolishly, I position myself behind the door and expectedly, my hunters shoot through it, resulting in bullets grazing my left shoulder.  
I wince out loud and curse aggressively, before shoving the door in their direction with my unharmed shoulder, assuring that it hits at least one of them in the face.  
Crunch.  
It does.

As I pull the door back back, I aim a bullet at the gent in the background, before grasping the one in the front by gripping his tie and dragging him towards me “Who are you?” I yell. 

I am met with roaring laughter which eventually becomes muffled by the incessant dribbling blood that meets his lips “I won’t te-”

I don’t let him finish, instead I shoot him in his right thigh and he emits a scream “I’ll ask again, who are you?”

I annoyingly don’t get my answer because whilst I was momentarily distracted, another person from upstairs comes down and shoot’s his fellow gunman to keep him quiet. 

“You bloody nob!” I exclaim, before ducking to avoid a bullet and rugby tackling the man’s lower half. 

Wrapping my arms around his legs, I barge forcefully and cause us both to tumble; I land face down to the right of his body, whilst my (5th) opponent, scrambles on his back, against the walls

I am not on the floor for long because suddenly, an array of bullets fly from the top of the stairs, resulting in further blood splatter that covers the left side of my face and the death of my 5th.

“What the hell is wrong with these guys!” I growl out.

I began to crawl around myself, a hope I can keep up until I can forcefully launch myself in the direction of my living room to avoid any more hits.  
My cheek bangs against the floor harshly and I let out a hiss, but I don’t remain still for long.  
I stand up immediately and reach for another round that was located in the draws of my cabinet before suffering another shower of bullets; I crouch down and move quickly, trying to keep my next (only one this time) opponent on their toes, but it’s difficult. 

I aim for their feet, but miss drastically, so I move to his hips and find I am almost rendered useless.  
This is fucking irritating, I thought.

I launch the gun as a whole at the man’s head, which lands him in wild surprise and whilst he is momentarily blind, I lunge forward and land a back hand immediately into his diaphragm.  
Bending over, the man clenches his stomach and I use this opportunity to drive my knee into his nose and finish with my elbow to the back of his neck. 

In a very disgruntled manner, my (6th) opponent’s body slammed to the floor; landing with a wild crunch as he lands face first, a pile of vomit spews out of his mouth and hits my shoe.  
I try to not become queasy and to keep myself busy, I flip my 6th over and check his upper jacket for any ID or weapons and find two hand knives.  
I smile satisfied. 

I stand back from the corridor and inhale a large breath, willing my body to calm so I can hear my surroundings – I focus on the upstairs of my house and note, no floorboards are creaking and all lungs are being tightly squeezed but I can hear the sliding sound of a window being opened. 

I launch into a sprint and bash against the corridor wall before leaping upstairs; one step, 3 steps and then 4. I land slightly bedraggled on the main landing and claw at the walls around me to gather my balance, but a sound halts my movements and I stop, leaving my body at an angle.  
To my left, in my guest room, something just hit the radiator.

I run full pelt in that direction, bursting open the door and immediately spotting two dangling feet that fell from the window.  
I jump over the bed and throw my body forward before flexing my fingers around a strong pair of ankles - my body still half hangs on the bed behind me, so annoyingly, my spine is left curved whilst my hands stretch above me. 

Using the weight of the person I am holding onto, I swing my feet off the bed and clump to the floor, before placing my feet beneath me and sitting into a squat position. I rag the body away from their escape, resulting in loud head clunks and bashed spines.  
It's a woman this time and she puts up a fierce fight, yet all it does is further aggravate me. 

As she attempts to scramble for anything to hold onto, I grab a fistful of hair and bang her head against the floor, not once but twice, causing her movements to slow radically. This slower pace offers me time to place her into a lock and hold, where eventually I sit upon her, place her hands beneath my knees, and use my full weight to hold her down. 

“My hope was that you would be a man, mainly because they are much easier to persuade,” I comment, palming the knives which now lay in my hands. 

Instead of words I am given a number of grumbles and growls as the female clenches and shows her teeth in defiance “Who do you work for?” I ask, whilst adding more pressure to the hands beneath my knees. 

Where the credit was due, the woman beneath bared all the pain I handed her, even the backhander I landed to her temple, (which I deemed a method of persuasion) “Tell me who you fucking work for!” I shout, landing yet another punch, only this time to her cheekbone.  
As my skin touched hers, I felt my impact rupture the bone, causing a slew of blood to spit from her mouth “Ha-ha, oh your reputation precedes you,” She finally spits out. 

“What the hell do you know about my reputation?” I push. 

A cloud of darkness started conjuring around her eye-socket and cheek, making it appear as if she had coated the left side of her face with black paint…she almost lay quiet until I landed yet another punch but this time to her jaw “ANSWER,” I screech. 

Cackling laughter slipped out, of her rice sized lips and as her head lolled from side to side, her words tumbled towards me in a bated whisper “That you wear your reputation like a crown,” She finishes her words with another round of laughter, her action causing a tooth to rumble out onto the floor. 

I have my answer now and truthfully, I can’t take anymore, so brutally, I land yet another punch to her temple and I place all my weight behind it, so that when it finally lands, blood fills her entire pupil and she falls completely still. 

As I heave out more and more breaths, I realise that I’m basking in my hatred and my mind suddenly starts to scream at the impending complications I’m going to be dealing with.  
So instead of screaming internally, I open my mouth.  
I scream for so long that my voice cracks and my knuckles become sore because I’ve banged them on the floor beneath me.  
Then my eyes become blurred because my emotions have gotten the better of me and I weep for the future losses I’m going to suffer – my reputation was no crown I wanted to wear, if I did, I would only drown myself in blood.


	7. My Darling Starlight.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doors to new pathways are being opened but there are greater sacrifices to follow because of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS UNSETTLING SCENES SOME READERS MAY FIND UNPLEASANT.
> 
> I know it's been awhile and it's possible you thought I wouldn't post again, but I have arrived.  
> If you read, thank you, if you're confused, then please ask questions, and as always kudos. 
> 
> Or simply talk to me in the comments if you need someone to talk to.

I wipe my cheeks and then I dab my chin because my tears have started to formulate a pool at the bottom of my neck, then I stare at the lifeless body beneath me and I spit out a curse “Fuck you.”  
It adds nothing to the situation, but it assists my emotions in decreasing which is all that matters.

After I mentally separate myself from my being, I stand to my full height and grab the two ankles beneath me, before dragging them towards the door and onto the landing. However, as I position the body over the top step, a knock comes from the front door and I curse aggressively, before stomping downstairs. 

I approach the front door in the same manner, I displayed to the men laying beneath me; eager and full of anguish and as I remove the locks, yet leave on the chain, I pull the door back and have to duck, as my sudden bout of strength, causes the chain to snap and fling behind me “For go- WHAT!” I yell cutting myself off, before looking towards my unwanted guest. Or should I say guests.  
It was Arthur and John. Shelby. 

“A neighbour of yours reported some disruption,” John said, smiling around the toothpick that he held between his teeth. 

Both men stood in front of me with their hands neatly in their pockets whilst their bodies swayed ever so gently from side to side “Yes, well the disruption has been dealt with,” I spat out bluntly. 

“You realise nothing in this town happens without us over seeing,” Arthur commented, a frown now playing his lips.  
It was evident my response pissed him off, I thought.

My temper was starting to play in the foreground of my mind again “Perhaps next time you should fucking hurry up then. I told you I dealt with it, now leave,” I exclaimed strongly, before slamming the door in their face. 

I rub my face wildly with both of my hands and as I do so, my hair wraps around my fingers, causing tendrils to fall over my face and cling to the blood spots around my upper left cheek.  
Annoyingly however, another knock comes from the door again and in a great huff, I storm over to it and throw it open…however I am ever so slightly shocked that it wasn’t Arthur or John standing there, but Mr Thomas Shelby.  
Fuck my life, I think. 

I’ll be honest, I was trying to not scowl “What?” I spit out bluntly.

At this late morning hour, the sun managed to slice through the gaps of grey cloud and offered a fragment of light to Thomas’s cheeks bone, illuminating the shade of blue that circled his pupil and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t admiring the pleasant tones it offered his skin. The only problem was the sun hit me directly and caused minor discomfort, resulting in me leaning on my right leg so that my view wasn’t distorted. 

“Well Arthur and John informed me they were in need of assistance,” He responded, the corner of his lips ever so slightly curling. 

“They may need it, but I certainly don’t, so what is the issue?” I respond quickly, now leaning against the door frame, to hopefully obscure the dead body behind me. 

Tilting his head, Thomas allowed his eyes to touch every facial feature of mine and I suddenly become conscious of the blood that may lay there, so I try to keep my attention elsewhere by speaking “I had informed them that the situation had been rectified.” 

Thomas now smiled wildly and brought both of his hands together before letting them sit in front of his hips “That is one part of the conversation they certainly didn’t skip over but with that conclusion...surely you’ll have no issue allowing us in to confirm your answer.”

I tighten my lips as I’m tempted to call him an arrogant bastard but somehow I don’t “You, on your own. They stay outside,” I instruct confidently. 

Thomas turns to both Arthur and John and knowingly, they nod in confirmation before both of them stand aside my gate, keeping an eye out for anything curious.  
Turning back to me, Thomas takes a step up towards my front door and comes face to face with me before slipping out “May I?”  
He is so close, that I feel his breath touch my lower lip and he smells of lukewarm whiskey and cigarette smoke. 

I say nothing, instead I stand back and allow him permission to enter my home before, I shut the door and turn the lock. 

“I would highly recommend you don’t touch anything,” I threaten, bluntly. 

In retort, Thomas offers me silence and simply walks around the limp body which decorates the edge of my sofa, however he pauses at the two men who are congregating in the corridor.  
His hands remain in front of him yet his eyes wander carelessly as he inhales their disformed figures “Are you aware of why this ambush happened to you?” He questions.

“No,” I simply state.  
For some reason, this answer causes confusion and results in Thomas bringing his eyes back to mine and questioningly, he raises his right eyebrow, yet remains silent. 

Stepping over the pile of bones, Thomas wanders into the kitchen and instantly locates the number of holes in the door to the left of him; placing his face closer to the wooden material, he raises and then lowers his body, in order to see through every orifice perfectly “How many of them were there?” He asks. 

I hold back my annoyance “Enough,” 

Thomas continues “There were a recorded 14 shots.”

I eye roll because I feel every delayed moment of this conversation has been done purposefully and it is taking every part of me not to dismiss Thomas; it also doesn’t help that the man whom was perched behind the stove is now oozing blood all over my kitchen floor. Some of it has even made its way beneath the dining table.

“As you will know Mr Shelby, one doesn’t tend to count in these situations,” I say, again trying to avoid straight answers. 

“I bet you would if Mary was involved,” He commented lightly. 

“As would you if any of your brothers were, are we really going to play that game Thomas Shelby?” I exclaim back.

I’m standing in the doorway to my kitchen now, where I tightly fold my arms and allow my eyes to watch every movement and twitch of Thomas’s body. Like I, he is observing me the same and I’m sure neither him or I, know whom the hunter or the prey is. But I am certain Thomas would not win if there was an outcome.

Oddly enough, Thomas offers me a wild smile and he actually laughs.  
Then for a moment, I become slightly conflicted with emotion “I can get my men to dispose of the bodies for you,”

“There is no need, I know someone,” I respond just as blandly. 

This stop’s him straight “Some-on-e?”  
Surprisingly, Thomas lingers on this word and drags it out as he pronounces it; it should have been a two-syllable word, but he had the capability to turn it into 3.  
Maybe it was even 4, I thought.  
“Yes Thomas, someone,” I confirm, smirking a great deal before continuing “You can’t ask James can you?”  
I begin to approach Thomas as he remains stood, incredibly dumbfounded and I take this opportunity to stand so unbelievably close to him, that I brush the tip of my nose on his waist jacket. Just at the top of his right pectoral.  
“It was James, wasn’t it?” I whisper.  
Thomas doesn’t answer but he does roll his eyes downward, before tucking his hands deeply into his trouser pockets. He huffs out a large breath that fans against my cheek and I seek out another by letting my fingers graze against the chain, that leads to the small pocket watch that is situated around his midsection.

“So one is never late,” Thomas comments, as his eyes linger on my right hand which turns the golden contraption.

“Perhaps you can interest your other men with getting one then, their time keeping is evidently dismal on my standards,” I mutter back, returning the watch to its humble abode. 

I’m delivered a chuckle from his lips and I stand away, to then fall into a walk whilst encouraging him to follow; I lead Thomas to the front door, which I unlock and open immediately, to then find John bending his ear so closely, that it’s a shock he didn’t fall over “Did what you hear, suffice?” I say to John, who looks at me unapologetically. 

Taking John’s spot, Thomas starts to adjust his suit, almost as a distraction rather than feeling disarrayed and as John hits my front gate, I am asked another question “When can you be rid of the bodies by?” 

“I don’t know why your so curious, you aren’t the one living in my house…but alas, they will be gone by the evening,” I instruct and before Thomas can say anything in response, I shut the door immediately.

* * * *  
By the time the early afternoon comes around (4 hours later), I had concealed all bodies appropriately and transported them to the cellar downstairs. I had also managed to thoroughly bleach and wipe down my spare room, my living room and my kitchen.  
Let’s also not forget the t-shirt that I was wearing which now had a large pink mark, spotted around the bottom of it, I thought.

The more tedious problems however (both doors which ultimately led to the kitchen) would take more time to fix.  
Frustratingly, my previous guests had taken a crowbar to the part of the door (the one which was at the back of my house) that held the hinges; resulting in a split frame.  
This ultimately resulted in seeking out a door that could be purchased on the day, whilst the adjoining door (which led to the corridor and opened to the kitchen) could have a temporary fix that consisted of expanding foam. 

Not to mention, I really didn’t want Mary to find any more bullet holes, I thought. So of course, I did that job first.  
After a 2-hour drive which landed me in the outskirts of Small Heath, I located a door and as I arrived home, the gentleman from 3 doors down: Christopher, happily helped me install it for a small fee.  
Also, oddly yet thankfully, Christopher didn’t notice that the kitchen floor had a mild red sheen to it…I of course didn’t want to question why he hadn’t in fact noticed it, but I was fearful my pointing it out, may actually draw his attention to it.

When 2’o’clock came around, I was starting to be mindful of just how much work I had put my body through; not only were my hands clenching and seizing due to the constant gripping, but my muscles still ached due to what occurred the previous day.

After showcasing some eagerness towards his departure, I dismiss Christopher after paying him, before happily perching on the chair that stood next to the back door. This was the first moment I had had to myself today, so I take the opportunity to look around my kitchen and allow my eyes to take in the true state of my humble abode; multiple bullet holes lay scattered, not only across the walls but the cupboard doors also. Not to mention, multiple surfaces had either been dented or split, resulting in my home looking warped and like a very cheap, illusion house. 

Although my home did look hampered, it was not the worst I had seen it, yet what didn’t impress me was that my kitchen was the meeting point for all things social and I knew I wouldn’t be able to conclude all my work by the end of the day.  
My living room and upstairs looked relatively normal and appeared as if nothing had occurred, however the story was written differently when it came to my kitchen.  
I also felt a mental block as one activity that was on my to do list, was standing at the foreground of my mind, which was that I needed to fit new door locks.  
I really didn’t want Mary to see any of this, I thought…not to mention the kitchen floor was now not only red but covered in split wood, screws and tools due to the removal of the old door. 

I huff out a loud breath and take my hand to my face and rub it aggressively and slowly, I start to feel my energy severely dwindle. Instead of trying to formulate a plan, I abandon the idea completely and begin to make my way upstairs where I remove my dirty clothes and place on fresh ones; taking my coat from the hanger on the wardrobe door, I make my way downstairs and out the front of the house. 

As soon as my feet hit the cobblestoned pavement, I’m instantly taken by the cool breeze which skitters across my cheekbones and it causes a shiver to fall down my spine. Tucking myself deep into my coat, I lock my front door before making my way to The Garrison, because fuck, I need a stiff drink.  
Taking meaningful strides, I let my mind imagine the glass that will sit inside the palm of my hand and as I imagine my lips being covered by the sweet liquid, I bump into someone and nearly fall sideways.

I let out a loud huff as if I have been hit in the diaphragm, before stumbling to the left and painfully snapping my ankle; I throw out my arms to balance myself and thankfully catch and save myself from the brief tumble.  
As the world begins to slow itself, I take my left hand to the spot around my ankle as a pain starts to emit from the bottom of my foot and gently, I start to rub.

“It’s Veronica, yes?”  
I lift my head upwards and I am surprised by what I’ve come across.  
It's Polly Gray and what causes my surprise is the light and airy facial expression that dresses her features completely; It’s a look of innocence, vulnerability and…gladness. She doesn’t hide it at all.

“Polly, hello. It is yes,” I say, finally.

Again I’m stunned as Polly now, shoots me a shy smile; the left corner of her mouth almost winks as it graces her cheek and as soon as it appears, her hand goes to the loose strand of hair that is starting to block her view.  
I notice then that she is accompanied by someone and as I give myself the opportunity to look and take in his presence, the gentleman blushes bashfully.  
He is fairly young, showcases a light beige suit and wear’s his brown hair slicked back “This, this is Michael,” I hear Polly introduce. 

I watch as Polly protectively yet fearfully wraps her left arm around Michael’s shoulders as she acquaints us and truthfully, I can’t help but smile in gladness, because the way she is behaving is not ordinary…it’s maternal. 

“Michael Gray, in fact…he’s my son…” 

Polly admits this with bated breath and has a look in her eyes that tells me, she was terrified to admit what she had. Not because she wasn’t sure if she meant her words but because she was afraid, she might not be able to again.  
I feel almost overwhelmed by this announcement because I have been offered a very raw and clear look into a powerful women, so I take the notion with heed and offer my hand to Michael “It’s lovely to meet you Michael! Welcome to Small Heath… if either of you need anything at all, my doors are open…” 

With a hint of shyness, Michael’s hand encases mine and I find his skin effortlessly soft against my beaten hands; he tenses ever so slightly, so I remove my hand from his and place it onto his shoulder.  
“Truly, my door is open,” I repeat again.

This time however, when I look at Polly, there is a look of understanding and appreciation. It is here I feel our friendship finally form and solidify as she delivers me a small smile and the slightest of nods.

“I assume you are spending or have spent, the day out together so far, yes?” I ask lightly.

Polly nods her head fiercely before informing me “Yes, I have shown him my home and he’s been introduced to the boys! Now, we wander the streets of Small Heath!”

There was true utter delight gracing my ears and I could feel the energy reverberate from Polly, as her words, smile and eyes lift with ease when she gazes at the man to her left “Well, I will let you continue! I don’t want to dampen or slow your day!” I announce.  
As I open my arms to point them in their wanted direction, Michael takes Polly’s arm and leads them away, where both of them shout their goodbyes over their shoulder, bidding me well.

“Well, I never thought I’d see that,” I whisper to myself, my eyes still glued to the pair in front. 

As I am momentarily distracted, I feel a twinge of pain in my left ankle and quickly, go to rub my ankle again before falling into a light walk. 

In no time, I spy the sign to The Garrison and as I press my hand onto the front door to open it, a cloud of smoke erupts from the inside and clings to my skin as one environment collides with another.  
At this time of day, I anticipated The Garrison to be empty except for Harry, however I’m left wildly in surprise, as my eyes follow the shape of the room and to the left of it, I find Finn, perched in a booth, with his head down. 

I furrow my brows in intrigue and concern before approaching Harry who was currently stood at the bar, polishing a whiskey glass “How long?” I ask quietly, tilting my head backwards to indicate my point of subject.

“Since this morning…usual?” He informs me.  
I nod my head in response to his question and quietly, I remove my coat before folding it over my arms and making my way over to Finn. 

“You’re a little young to be here, aren’t you?” I tease lightly, a smile on my lips.

Instead of Finn’s light and airy charm, I am given silence; no tilt of his head or even a blink from his eyes…all that I note is the slip of air that falls from his lips. 

I don’t make any further attempt to speak, instead I lay my coat where Finn has laid his and I join him by sliding into the booth and very gently nudging his shoulder with mine. Then I simply knot both of my hands together on top of the table, before nodding my head in thanks as Harry brought over my drink and placed it in front of me.  
Unknowingly, I start to shuffle my seating position, not once but four times and it is here, I realise that I have been made uncomfortable…not because of the quiet but because Finn’s playful and caring nature had been drastically subdued.  
“Talk to me, Finn,” I say ever so gently.  
It is this tone that thankfully causes Finn to stir; it isn’t a great amount, but I receive slight eye contact and talkative facial expressions.  
“I am almost insulted by the fact you didn’t come to my rescue this morning. I know Thomas would have told yo-“  
“It’s Arthur,” Finn finally spits out, cutting off my words viciously. 

I maintain a neutral face expression because now, Finn is completely focused on me; steadily, I take a sip of my drink and leave my fingers clasped around the stem of the glass.  
As I remain lightly focused on the beverage, the contrast of the liquid more prominent than ever, I start to consider and analyse the last two occasions that I had been in Arthur’s presence.  
One major key factor about both events stand out to me: his sudden increase in temper and agitation. 

“His behaviour?” I ask rhetorically.  
Upon finishing my last word, Finn placed his forehead into the palm of his hands before removing them instantly and grabbing his coat to allow his fingers to fiddle with the material. 

“The nightmares were getting worse and so were his outlashes, Veronica!”  
Instead of an explanation, Finn offers me the previous which appears more like an apology; however, it still gives me a reason to why he had a momentary hesitation.  
Automatically, my brain connects one emotion, to a moment and then a facial expression and instantly, I know where this conversation is heading, yet I still encourage Finn to tell me nonetheless.  
“My intuition tells me that based on your choice of words and behaviour, you have tried to help Arthur but the outcome has not been what you initially anticipated?”  
Like a chandelier, my words hang in the air, illuminating every woe and thought that dressed Finn’s face…for a second, I feel as if I may have exposed him too much, however I am surprised.  
Straightening his body entirely, Finn brings himself towards me and as I allow him time to settle, I lift my left arm out of his way and adoringly, he fits his body to mine allowing his right side to touch my left. 

I thought initially, he was content but after a minor pause runs over our bodies, Finn takes my still hovering arm and wraps it around his body, placing his right hand into mine.  
It was here that I realise that yes, I had been the embodiment of hatred and potential destruction but now? I was finally, much more.

“I am frightened, Veronica,” He admits, yet he leaves his words clinging to the air, so I wait.  
“The way he was with Edward after the match…he behaved like an animal and Tommy just watched! He didn’t interfere and neither did Polly!” He exclaimed before continuing “He just kept on punching and punching Edward!”

Again, I wait.  
“He keeps screaming in the night and you can hear him banging his head on the wall when he’s trying to calm himself down! I did catch him one night though…laying on the floor with his hands wrapped around his head…I was standing in the doorway but I didn’t say anything! I didn’t know what to say anyway, these days I wonder, does he actually see me at all? He never acts like it, even when he’s right there!” Finn finishes his words and then turns to point to the place that I’m sat for further emphasis before continuing “But, I don’t get it Veronica! He needs help, so why are people just…”

“Watching?” I finish for him and he nods in admission. 

I relax ever so slightly whilst tightening my hand around Finn’s and I watch as soothingly, he drags his index finger around my left palm…once, twice and four times.  
“I saw long ago that, that is the true dark side to pain; people often think that if they have suffered from pain, everyone else should too! Even if it’s the person right in front of them. We are an era which struggles with true empathy and no one, not ever…wants to be involved with something that frightens them, especially if it say’s something is wrong with them,” I say truthfully.

Now, Finn turns to look at me which a plate full of curiosity “Veronica, tell me the truth, do you think Arthur will get better?”  
Whilst nearing the end of his sentence, an element of guilt started to fill Finn’s words; it was evident through this whole conversation that he was seeking forgiveness for his actions.  
Instead of thinking of Arthur, I think of Mary; I see the way his vulnerability erupts from his skin at the mention of her name and how his body easily unravels within her presence. I believed that Arthur held himself at a greater depth than people thought and perceived…this alone, gave me hope.  
“I think, when the time arrives, he’ll surprise us all,” 

Again, Finn doesn’t respond immediately, so I wait, yet when the words finally arrive, they are only slightly muted “I gave him Tokyo.”  
I don’t react either, I keep reasonably calm before offering him a hum to confirm I have heard his response “I thought it would make him happier; when Thomas took it, he looked in peace!”

Unknowing to Finn, I smile slightly at the prospect of Finn spying on Thomas “Does he know you have seen him?”

“I see everything, but I don’t talk much…not anymore,” Finn admits, sweetly. 

I emit a quiet sigh before adding “Now you know that sometimes, seeing everything, is sometimes too much.” 

Both of us fall into easy silence now and sweetly, Finn attempts to nestle into me even further and gladly, we listen to the sounds that fall around us…that is until the door to The Garrison opens and I sense we are being watched “Finn?”  
It was Thomas Shelby.

Standing to our right, Thomas gazed at us with his mouth slightly hung and for a moment I sense a small coin sized amount of envy, before he quickly masks the emotion with urgency “Have you been here all day? Polly’s been going mad!”

“Polly’s been with Michael!” Finn snapped back, defending himself. 

Surprising even myself, the tone which Finn delivered was full of jealousy, need and longing and it takes everything in me to not protect him “You don’t have to worry Mr Shelby, as soon as I’ve finished my drink, I’ll take him home.”

So much for a couple of stiff drinks, I thought.  
Frustratingly however, a face starts to rear its ugly head and it falls into the shape of Mary Carlton and as soon her eyes, fall upon my features she emits a delightful smirk in my direction “Veronica, what a pleasant surprise!” 

The history that May and I built started to tickle my nerves before rising to the top of my skin, yet the action seizes entirely when again, someone speaks “You’ve met each other before?” Thomas questions, a light smile gracing his lips. 

“Yes, it seems by the comfort you both share currently, you have also… Business, I assume?” I say, re-directing the conversation bitterly. 

Thomas senses my abrupt finish to his evident delight and clever mood - he makes no further move other than to ask Mary to take a seat and as she removes one glove and then another, Thomas does well to keep his eyes directly on mine “I wouldn’t be rude to your company, Mr Shelby, she doesn’t do well with being ignored.”

A sour look covered Thomas’s facial features and if it were possible, his blue irises became infinitely sharper as the emotion covered his entire being; with no further acknowledgement, I turn my body to my left and it appears as if I am shielding Finn from anything further. 

“Something happened between you both, didn’t it?” Finn questioned curiously. 

I release a sigh before looking down towards Finn, “Something like that yes…”

In his soft daze, Finn looks a little offended that I haven’t told him anything more and for a moment I think he will hide it but instead, he reveals “You don’t trust me enough to tell me?”

“I assure you with every fibre of my being it isn’t that…this secret is to be told between different walls. Later my love,” I say, a hint of love slipping through my words.

Instead of continuing our conversation, I encourage Finn to put on his coat and whilst doing so, I knock back the remains of my drink before mimicking Finn and wrapping up myself.  
With my presence now visible, the couple to my left deter their eyes from each other and focus on me “Leaving so soon?” Mary comments, her eyes wistfully undressing me. 

“Not soon enough,” I retort whilst tying my last button.  
As Finn approaches my right side, he offers me his left arm and points to the door “See you at home Tommy,” He mumbles before nudging my body in the direction of the door. 

However bitterly, both Finn and I pause just before we get to the exit, as Mary calls out “I hope we see each other again Veronica.”  
I try to not physically respond and thankfully, I don’t, however I do turn my head and bring my eyes to hers, holding them for a mere moment “If you were sensible and knew what was good for you, Mary Carlton, you would hope otherwise.”  
Then with a swift push to the door, we were outside and hit with the smog that Small Heath was famous for.

I pick up my walking speed promptly and without faltering a step, Finn does the same and matches me, pushing out rapid breaths, to then ask “She did something to you, didn’t she?”

“Mainly her husband, but she encouraged him…because she gets bored easily,” I snap back accidentally.

“What did her husband do?”

“Nothing now, he’s dead.”

This answer causes Finn to stop short and horribly, I am yanked backwards as my arm is still wrapped around his “You killed him?” He questions me.  
Thankfully, when the words hit my ears, I note there is no significant judgement displayed on his features, which oddly causes me to release a breath “My enemies don’t stay my enemies for very long, Finn Shelby.” 

With no further questions, our walking begins again and despite our slightly ruffled feathers, the atmosphere remains pleasant and just as we turn onto Watery Lane, we are covered in rain and have to fall into a run.  
Finn reaches the Shelby parlour much before I do and in a blurred hurry, he pounds his fists against the front door and just as I join him, I watch as Polly appears in the small gap between wall and door, inviting us both in. 

Without another word, my hand is taken by Finn’s and I am introduced to their home; like my own, the kitchen is the social hub so instantly, I am taken to the back of the house where I notice an open kitchen, that holds a small dining area.  
Releasing my hand, Finn announces that he will make me a drink so awkwardly, I am left standing in the doorway.  
Catching me off guard, Polly questions me from behind “It seems as if you’ve won that boy,” She says nodding in the direction of Finn.  
Truthfully, I can’t help but smile “So I’ve been told,” I admit.

Brightness hits my eyes, as I allow them to gaze around the kitchen and focus on the walls which are plastered with red paper, as well as the tables and cups that decorate the shelves which showcase their swirling patterns.  
However, something in particular caught my eye and it was the array of photographs that lined the walls; in a pattern that I do not see as purposefully done, the black and white images cover every fraction of the wall, making it appear as if the memories drowned the cooking room entirely.  
“I like it, the decoration suits you well,” I comment lightly, whilst allowing my eyes to focus on one particular image of Thomas, Arthur & John from the war.

“Tommy tells me he hates it most days,” Polly adds, and I can’t help but giggle “That doesn’t surprise me at all!” I follow.

Offering me a seat at the small dining table situated in the centre of the kitchen, I accept Polly’s kind words and make myself comfortable whilst thanking Finn, who then placed a steaming beverage in front of me “He won’t tell me how you both met, you know…” Polly commented, nodding towards the curly boy that was now sitting to my left.  
For a second, I felt a great deal of affection and respect, so I offer Finn a nudge and a sincere look before returning my focus back to Polly “I do not trust easily and you raised the young boy well, so he adhered to that,”  
“You don’t have to explain!”  
I pause Polly immediately “No but you deserve it nonetheless.”

In the momentary quiet that I am given, I sip my tea and instantly detect a hint of lavender and Polly responds “A recipe given to me by my mother; word has it, it mended even the most broken of bodies!”  
I chuckle “I will most certainly need gallons of it then!”  
Adoringly in response to my words, Polly gives me a smile and immediately, I note it is the exact one Finn also wore; taking this emotion with her, Polly leans into the back of her chair, to then fold her arms “So tell me, how do you do it?”

Despite the fact I am continuing to sip my tea, I allow my eyes to remain focused on Polly and I subtly raise my right eyebrow in question before following with “How do I do what exactly?”

“It’s a small town Veronica, filled with many voices, yet when you arrive the only whisper that falls to our ears is your name, just your first…”  
The tone which shrouds me is one of insult, a little threat and oddly enough, jealousy and I have to admit, it takes a great deal for me to not smile “I hope you don’t mind me saying but you sound as if you’re threatened Polly Gray, and you don’t strike me as someone who gets threatened…at least not this easy.”  
“Perhaps, I am envious,” Polly retorts quickly, her poker face ever so slightly slipping. 

“Then please ask, I have no issues with being honest,” I reply, pausing her response by inhaling a little more tea and continuing “My full name is Veronica Jackson and have resided mainly in London, yet I was born in the barracks, at an army base in Scotland. I moved to Small Heath because it is quiet and nothing more. After following my father’s life in the army, along with the hell that fell along with war, I sought nothing but quieter voices.”

I confidently deliver this piece of information with a wide smile as well as rapid hand gestures, although quietly, I start to mentally thank the endless opportunities I was given to overlook any negotiating scene or meeting, when with my father.  
9 times out of 10, when communicating with your opponent or simply just another solider who held rank, they sought instant gratification.  
In order to succeed with this, I had to persuade Polly that I had indeed fallen under her pressure.  
In no way was Polly stupid, not to mention I had no intention to make her my enemy…in fact she would be an excellent ally…a tremendous one in fact. However, my safety became my top priority.  
This is where lying came in; the true art to lying is actually…not lying at all.  
Take my example; I informed Polly my birth took place in the barracks at a place in Scotland, this is true, however without looking further into it, she will not be aware that the location no longer exists due to a bombing that took place in WWI, thus decimating all evidence.  
Every piece of information I uttered, was entirely true…what is different is that they were now past truths.

“Where are your parents then?” Finn questioned curiously.

I shrug my shoulders “I’m afraid to say I actually don’t know!”  
Again, I was still not lying.  
I had forgotten where I’d buried my father and my mother, wel-  
“When did they leave you?” Polly asked, cutting of my thoughts.

“I left them,” I correct her before continuing “Change was certainly inevitable, especially after the war, but I hadn’t anticipated it to be so much. I couldn’t withstand it, so I simply started my own life,” I answer truly. 

Finn very discretely nestled into my side before whispering “That’s what Arthur’s outlashes are about, he says all he sees is the war now.”  
For a moment I watch Polly as she visibly scowls Finn for mentioning Arthur but I lean forward and block the contact with a shake of my head “There are things in war that no human should have to see; what we should be saying is how brave your brothers are for trying and ensuring that they return home. Some people even to this day are still lost to the war,” I say in hope to comfort Finn. 

“Did your father change?” Finn asked, cluelessly.  
These were the words that brought back a kaleidoscope of memories; none of which were good, and I secretly hoped that, no one saw the moment my fingers dug deeply into the palm of my left hand in pain.  
“I didn’t just see one man change; I saw a whole army full,” I answered before continuing “When I was still with my family, I never tended to lay in one place; I spent my time in multiple buildings, registering a thousand faces, whilst the rest of my hours were tied into driving back and forth between establishments. I can’t even begin to tell you how irrevocably quiet the place became after the war,” I say, finally relaxing my fingers and wrapping them around Finn’s arm. 

When I finally look at Polly, I see a look of pure understanding as well as sadness and instantly I knew “I see I might have judged you,” Polly admits bashfully before taking her own tea and downing all of it in one. 

“It’s common, but if you care to feel better, you certainly won’t be the last to either,” I admit, before continuing “Now, I’m sorry to cut my visit so short but I must be off, things to do I am afraid.”  
I wait patiently for Finn to remove himself from my body before re-adjusting my coat and as I do so my hands slip over the corner of the letter that I stored in my inside pocket, It’s the letter from this morning, I thought, “Will I see you tomorrow?” Finn questions, catching my eye.

“If you so wish, my door is always open, to the both of you,” I say, whilst also giving not only Finn a smile but Polly also. 

I push my chair my in and bid Polly well before Finn assists me to the door “I’m sorry,” Finn tells me sincerely “If I knew she were to interrogate you, I would have said it would have been better you didn’t come in at all,”

I chuckle lightly at the care I’m delivered and affectionately I let my right hand ruffle the curls upon his head “You’re too kind little one but I would much prefer to be, that to not. It gives me greater confidence like you wouldn’t believe,” I answer before walking out the door and making my way to my humble abode.  
And sweetly as I go, I hear Finn call that he will join me in the morning for breakfast. 

As I cross the road and hop onto the pavement, I let my right-hand sneak into the pocket that holds my letter and whilst I have warm fingers, I rip it open and avoid the writing on the front completely before beginning to read:

_“My dearest starlight,  
Thank you for alerting me to your whereabouts; although, I have to admit that your co-ordinations were hidden a little more on this crown, than your last.  
Things are quiet where I am now that my neighbours have moved away; the children, of which there are two, would often be my morning wake up for the day.  
I am now reminded of how much I miss the sound of your padding feet.  
Please talk soon, I miss your comfort,  
All my love,  
A mother in waiting,”_

_That was how the writing looked so much like my fathers because it was actually my mothers; a woman who spent much of her marriage emulating my fathers signature._.

The letter encircles me with warmth, and I can’t help but deny the smile that encases my face and in response to the letter, I lightly begin to skip the rest of the way to my humble abode.  
However, what stops me short is that as I arrive and place my key into the front door, I find it is already unlocked, yet I specifically remember locking it – in the blink of an eye, my hand is on my gun and I tip toe inside.  
With the door now behind me and my ears glued to the silence, I wait and then I wait to find I only hear a small amount of shuffling coming from kitchen. 

Taking long and light steps, I glide to the corridor and pause, before trying to peer around the adjacent kitchen door, that still had too many too bullet holes than I could count.

I am not ambushed, so I continue and as I move around the kitchen door, I see a coat sprawled onto the floor and then a pair of heels. But I don’t focus or see anything more because I collapse…I collapse because there in a heap next to the cupboard, lies Mary, drenched in blood, with skin black and blue.


	8. Veronica's Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Veronica's game is finally revealed. Or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a wallop of a task.  
> I know there has been a very long wait for this chapter and I do thank you, especially if you were looking forward to it.  
> I really experimented with this chapter; allowing myself to write in ways I don't usually, not to mention I had to gather multiple aspects which required a lot of work.  
> My writing changes, my storytelling evolves and a lot of secrets get spilled. 
> 
> As always, if you enjoy it, let me know. If you have any questions, please ask, and of course, Merry Christmas. (:

**Thomas Shelby’s POV.**

I woke with a start, and it’s because my brother John, was rapidly shaking my right shoulder “Tommy, get up and make it quick. We need you downstairs promptly.”  
Not hanging around for any potential further questioning, John departs from the room, finishing his demand with a harsh bang of the door.  
The reverberation caused by the slam, makes its way along the wall and into my bed frame, emitting a peculiar grinding noise that I detest.  
Leaping onto the floor, I feel the coolness of the wooden material shoot up my body and immediately, a shiver fabricates in the depths of my spine, causing the hairs on my body to rise. 

Not allowing the cool air to take advantage of my visible skin, I rapidly place on a multitude of clothing including my braces, shirt, waistcoat and finally, my oxfords.  
As the hairs on my arms start to relax and make themselves at home, I begin tucking in my shirt, tying my buttons and straightening my collar; then within 3 minutes, my feet were taking me out of my room and downstairs, where instantly my eyes were met with a crowd of men, who were rushing around manically.

Before I plunged myself into the day, I hesitantly paused upon the last step before overlooking the crowd and for a second, I furrow my eyebrows at the unexpected chaos because it isn’t even 8 o clock yet… However, I spy Arthur and from a distance he appeared almost exasperated, so quickly, I approach him.

“Arthur!” I bellow aloud, catching his attention.

Lifting his head, Arthur’s eyes almost widen in shock, yet I don’t have any time to contemplate the action as already, he is hurrying towards me “Listen, er Tommy, there has been a situation…” He stutters, before continuing “The police are waiting for you outside your office…”

That explains why John left me so quickly, I thought.

Without announcing my exit, I turn and begin to make my way to the other side of the building, where easily, the crowd of working men separate to create a path for my eager feet and as I turn a corner, my eyes find two police officers standing guard.  
Both gentleman easily tower over me and as anticipated, their eyes narrow in my direction; it’s an attempt to dismantle me but I simply, don’t budge “Gentleman, allow me, please!” I say, moving them to the sides of my door, so I am capable of unlocking my office. 

As I carry myself into my space, the gentlemen follow and I guide them in the needed direction, by raising my arm and pointing them to the singular chairs that are placed in front of my desk.

I don’t offer drinks, instead I simply follow their footsteps before placing myself behind the lump of mahogany which still painfully smelt like the Jameson’s I drunk last night.

“So, what brings you here?” I ask eagerly, knotting my hands together and placing them on the raised desk.

“Mr Shelby, we received a call in the earlier this morning regarding a house fire that occurred 3 streets over… you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”  
Immediately, the tone of which the words were directed with, were full of accusation and I couldn’t help but notice that the gentleman to my left: Jack, (we had been previously acquainted) was incessantly raising his right eyebrow. 

“And what is it about this house fire, Jack that points you in the direction of me?” I ask, my voice monotone. 

“The condition that the house has been left in reveals little to no evidence Mr Shelby, let me make that clear. However, what we did find was information pointing directly to you and I would… highly advise that you assist us with this investigation. Otherwise, you may have to endure a very difficult struggle for the next couple of weeks,” Jack spat venomously. 

Honestly, I was left a little speechless and for a moment I become angry because how would such a little movement, point fingers in my direction?

“Might I ask what house it is, that you are talking about?” I query, leaning forward ever so slightly. 

Both gentleman look to each other in question before returning their gaze to me and informing me “14 Heathy Rise.”

_That’s the house which belongs to Harry & Mary Smith, I wonder if-_

My thought train is brutally halted “There’s another issue Mr Shelby…”

I don’t respond with words, instead I raise both my eyebrows and widen my eyes “There’s a body and what confuses us, is that only the ribcage remains, however inside said object, is what we believe to be a crown… and it’s got, your name on it.”  
The accusation was filled blood, quite literally and I couldn’t deny that my responses were now hampered whilst my reaction fell unhidden; I couldn’t not retaliate but it would also, be stupid to do so.

“Take me there,” I ordered bluntly, before standing tall and forcing back the chair I was sat on. 

In a rush, the officers mimicked me and hurriedly put on their helmets before exiting, with me in tow.  
As we walked through the building, all men and women around us, seized action and whilst behaving startled, they brought their eyes to me.  
A painful silence began to slip into the air, tightening the oxygen molecules which deprived my lungs of the ease they so wished, yet I can’t help but keep my lips tightly nipped together as we strutted out of my home and onto the streets.

Without any further instructions or indications, the police officers pressed on, making their strides seem purposeful and as my anxiety started to build and wreak havoc against the corners of my skull, I pulled out a cigarette and sat the filter between my lips.  
As my shoes slapped against the cobblestoned pavement, I took a moment to notice that the streets of Small Heath were painfully quietly and I felt that the world had been muted if only for a moment, because soon, I heard a dog bark in the distance, cutting the thought entirely. 

“Not far now, Mr Shelby!” Jack bellowed back; his stride still brutally strong. 

What Officer Jack failed to inform me, was just how bad the fire truly was because upon our approach to Heathy Street, the devastation could not only be seen but felt.  
On entering the street, my eyes immediately located a cloud of billowing darkness, yet what seemed most harrowing, was how much the smoke appeared to breath. In many ways, the substance seemed to waltz down the street, twisting and bending in a rhythmic dance, which finished by overshadowing what lay beneath.

One foot after another, I fell into the bleak scene, where gradually my being became shrouded in ash.  
For a moment, the oncoming scene looked like a painting that had been purposefully smeared, as the ash fell in a diagonal pattern which rendered my eyes the ability to focus.  
However, when my eyes were given the opportunity to function correctly, I’m immediately seeking another softening blow, because the image in front of me, takes me back to a time of war.

The truth was, if you didn’t know there was a house there before, you certainly wouldn’t now; no longer did the brick walls shield a family in security, nor did any windows lay open for curious eyes to peek through.  
All that remained was a gaping hole and a very small pile of rubble “You say this happened overnight?” I asked Jack.

“Yes, Mr Shelby.”

Although I didn’t reveal much, what truly fascinated me was just how precise this whole scene was; the adjoining neighbours appeared untouched and unharmed and there were and are, no signs of shock, just surprise. 

“When did you receive the call?” I ask rapidly.

“6 o’clock!”

“And from who?” 

Officer Jack sighs out loud whilst rubbing his forehead “Oddly enough, it was a cyclist! He claimed to be riding to work when he saw the smoke!’’

Fascinating, I thought.  
If you didn’t see it, it couldn’t have happened.  
If you didn’t know, then you couldn’t tell.  
But if it didn’t exist, no one would remember it.  
It was particularly disturbing of how much the silence was beginning to hold; yet what was greater, was how much it had stopped speaking altogether. 

Slowly, I began to approach the scene, whilst cautiously keeping my breaths to a minimum and as I do so, Officer Jack takes note, before taking the lead and entering the cornered of perimeter. He weaves this way and that, appearing as if he wishes to cause no further disturbance to the scene and after a minute or two, or perhaps even three of performing his intricate dance, he pauses and places on a pair of gloves.  
When the level of snugness finally sufficed, Officer Jack bent down to pick up a small item and as I stretch out my arm and uncurl my fingers, he places the very small, untainted crown into the middle of my palm.  
And there it was.  
The crown itself was made out of brass and if I do say so myself, it was impressive, yet the engraving work was completely shoddy; evidently done in a rush and with a knife, the letter T H in particular almost stretched the full length of the small object, taking much of the colour with it. 

“Who knows about this finding?” I questioned, my eyes transfixed with the crown.

“Most of the team that were on site today, Mr Shelby. I’m afraid I was one of the very few who arrived later to the scene.”

Although Jack answered honestly, it still pissed me off because it wasn’t an answer I solely wished for. I began to turn the crown between my fingers; letting the sharp edges and points nudge my sensory nerves, causing a small but constant amount of dull pain.

“Give me some time, I’ll figure out what I can,” I say bluntly.  
As I turn away however, a hand clasps itself around my arm and when I try to shake it off, a strange pair of fingers bury themselves deeper into me “Don’t ignore me Mr Shelby…” Jack comments brutally.

Finally snatching my arm from his grip, I start to turn towards him and as I go to remove a cigarette from my right pocket, Officer Jack cuts me with his words “It is wise you keep this between you and your men, otherwise Inspector Campbell will hear about this…” 

Fucking Inspector Campbell, I thought.  
I can’t help but spit onto the floor “You have no business threatening me Officer Jack or my men! Be mindful to not do it again,” I growl easily.

Before Officer Jack could slip in any more viper like words, I storm away.  
The truth was for the past couple of days, my mind had become overwhelmingly alive; in the harrowing silence of my bedroom, words seeped over my eyes and covered my skin as if it were paper.  
Each day I would wear and rise with this impending doom, that I effortlessly tried to protect my men from and each day, I would recklessly coat my lips in liquor to ease my mind, in the hope it would give me the courage to fulfil the situation appropriately.  
  
Consequence....I was the consequence for everything.  
But now, I was no longer sure, because suddenly I felt like a player and not the player.  
Not the instigator but the partaker.  
I was becoming paper-thin and I fucking hated it.  
  
As if something had hit me forcefully, I jolt when I realise, I am at home; it appears my thoughts have blurred my journey and I have to gather myself when my heart palpitates along with my mind, as I try to remember the transition.  
However, as my eyes and ears narrow, I focus on the door which lays ajar to the living room and immediately I call out “Lads?”  
I do not hear an answer, however I do hear an incredulous number of angry cries; shooting inside, I head immediately to the kitchen where I find the doors to the betting shop wide open.  
There in the midst of the room to my right, are a mountain of men, heaving and retching, this way and that, whilst they try to scramble for what is below “Thomas, thank god!”  
It’s Polly and she’s a mess “It’s Edward. Arthur found him not even 10 minutes after you’ve left.”  
  
I hold my hand up to pause her words because finally, I take in the complete disarray of my home; chairs lay scattered everywhere, as do cups, stationery and photographs.  
Without a second thought, I take my gun from its holster and aim it towards the ceiling before pulling the trigger; all men fall to the ground instantly and reveal a devastating image.  
Edward was amongst and almost drowning in blood.  
With words that dribbled out of his mouth and onto the floor, Edward teased “Mr Thomas Shelby....I’ve been waiting for you.”  
At one rushed moment, multiple pairs of hands went to seize Edwards body; his arms, legs and neck were gripped and like a ventriloquist’s doll, controlled and restricted, he was thrusted and forced into the air.  
For a second, everything became quiet, yet all I notice is how much the state of my home mimics the interior of my mind; suddenly, I am enraged “Get in the back room. Now!” I yell fiercely.  
Like a group of bumbling children, my working men guide and spit out directions as well as instructions to those around them and I furrow my brows, as I watch them behave like tightly packed sardines in a tin can.  
Determined to not watch the outcome of this unnecessary clown show; I bow my head and scurry to the kitchen, immediately locating a bottle of Jameson’s.  
As I neck one glass and then another, I feel the eyes of Polly lay on my back “What?”  
Her next sentence is spoken softly and delicately, but as always, it’s endlessly protruding “Don’t let that man be the cause of your undoing Tommy.”  
I say nothing in response… I do however put the cork in the bottle and whisk it away as I begin my journey towards the back of the house.

As I stride, my feet start to get heavier and the voices in my head, aggressively louder ‘Don’t let that man be the cause of your undoing Tommy’...  
The words ricochet and almost embed themselves to every part of my inner being and truly, all I want to do is crash my head against a wall. But I don’t.  
Instead, I focus on the thump of my heart and the steady beat, carries me to the room where Edward was currently residing and unsurprisingly, my men line both sides of the door.  
I swagger between them all, allowing my shoulders to brush their chests and shove them aside before finally standing beneath the doorway.  
“I should inform you that I have no wish to let you leave here alive,” I spit out.  
Edward doesn’t smile.  
In fact he doesn’t showcase any facial expression at all...instead he simply wipes the dripping blood of his chin before spitting to his side “You’re lying, Mr Shelby. I take 15 of your men and I will take myself out of the door as well!”  
The taunting in his voice was clear as day and without any vocal acknowledgement, I step into the room with both Arthur and John by my side, before closing the door.

I don’t sit down, most of me refuses to do so.  
“You know I did not believe that you would have been so easily distracted Mr Shelby but Birmingham loves to talk about you .... How else would I know that you were losing your grip, so easily,” Edward continually taunts.  
I bite back too easy and emit a growl that slips between my teeth “I have lost nothing.”

As both Arthur and John chose their position either side of me, I lean over the chair that sits opposite Edwards and wrap my hands around the chair back, emitting a squeak as my gloves encase the wooden material.  
Now Edward smiles and the motion touches his cheeks, then grazes his eyes before he finally whispers, “Do you know how much stronger you would be if you would be a little more brutal, Mr Shelby? How many might be at your knees if you stopped looking the other way…let’s not forget how smug Inspector Campbell must be feeling to have Thomas Shelby lying beneath his feet…”

Truthfully, it felt as if Edward had slowly begun to navigate his way down my spine; plucking at every nerve ending whilst thoroughly infiltrating the depths of my mind, to then wind every thought, into the pit of my stomach, forming the uncertainty that resulted in my cheek muscle twitching.  
He knows, he has me. 

“Did you know that if it weren’t for Veronica, your younger brother would be dead as well?”  
He speaks this sentence so blandly and bored that I almost jump forward as I’m infuriated but John saves him, by placing a hand on my chest and pausing me “Where did she-”

“Did you know for the first 4 months Veronica worked for me I was unaware of her name?” Edward exclaimed, cutting off John.

“That’s just you being stupid,” Arthur openly insulted.

Edward only cocks an eyebrow in response “But is it? The only one who really knew her name was Charlie and he-”

“Ended up dead, I’m aware,” I say, silencing him. 

“What did Veronica do for you?”  
Although I scowl at Arthur for the redirection within the conversation, I cannot help but let my own curiosity develop; I only ever heard of her whereabouts and if I was lucky, how she looked but never anything directly to do with her and truthfully, it bothered me.

“Does for me,” Edwards spat before continuing “I like to refer to her as my negotiator; I ask, she gets, I want, she does…it’s very simple,” Edward answered. 

Before I could stop him, Arthur lets out a roaring laugh, to then slam his hand on the table in front of me “What fucking bollocks! Don’t listen to him Tommy; the performance she gave him at the boxing match says otherwise!”

Immediately Edward launches himself towards Arthur, but I pause him by raising my right fist and connecting it to his left cheekbone; Edward slumps to the table beneath, causing blood to spurt out and coat the front of my jacket ever so slightly.

Everything is silent thereafter and we all watch as Edward scrambles upwards; he loses his grip here and there, as well as his balance but eventually, his spine straightens “I escaped the first time from you because Veronica taught me how, I got your men because Veronica planned it out and I took your feet from beneath you because Veronica taught me ho-”

“LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS!”  
The bellowing shout vibrated through every fibre of my being.  
It didn’t belong to Arthur, John or even me…but in fact Finn and he was standing in the doorway, furious. 

“She said you would do this you know… try to blame her for your own fucking downfall!” Finn commented again. 

Our eyes were glued to Finn’s body and I watched as it writhed in anger; I find it unbearably difficult to withstand, so without hesitation I pull out my gun and point it towards Edward, but all he does in response is laugh.  
Incredulously, ridiculously and it entirely enraptures all of his being.

“You won’t kill me Mr Shelby, you can’t afford to!” He screeches almost. 

Having enough of the happenings and doings, John storms towards Edward and gathers his arms behind him, locking him into a tight embrace and kneeling into his back “The man you so wish to overthrow has told me about you Mr Shelby and I bet if you tried, you would find him near my very own office!” 

His words are a little manic and clustered together, but I understand them fully “Your talking shite, Edward!” I spat.

“He told me you would say that… he also told me to tell you he wants you dead and has the intention of killing you at Epsom.” 

My breath hitches and I know that it is heard “What are you-”

Arthur is cut off “The problem with Mr Sabini Thomas Shelby is that he has been trying to make things work with me for a number of years and the man will do what he can to ensure his foot is placed through that door,”

“You’re lying!” John threatens, taking his right arm and placing it around Edwards neck.

“I think you and I both are aware of how much I cannot afford to lie, John Shelby!” Edward spits out before continuing “Mr Sabini has always been one step further than you Mr Shelby and it started with me. I have everything he has ever needed to infiltrate the Middle East and it is awfully surprising how naïve a man can become when he wants power.  
“It was Veronica who helped me here me you know; she told me if I waited, Sabini would come, if I waited even longer, he would visit me and he did. I have everything he has always wanted…”

“Which is what!” Arthur screams.

In utter delight, Edwards eyes light up and the sight makes me almost vomit “The keys to the throne that he wants to sit upon…” 

Oddly, I am still pointing my gun towards Edward and slowly, I remove my finger from the trigger; I’m convulsing, I’m spinning, and I feel slowly ruined…was it him? Did he burn down the house?  
“I can assure you with every fibre of my being, if you were to go to where I reside, you will find the man himself!” Edward comments once more.

“He’s already been to your place Edward…” I spat out bluntly before continuing “What do you have, that Sabini wants so bad?” I whisper.

Edward slips out a cackle now; a sound which is cut off when John’s arm tenses slightly “A man you will soon find, endlessly interesting: Oswald Mosely.”

In utter fury and tiredness, John clenches the arm around Edward’s throat even more, before dragging his head towards the table and bashing it ridiculously, resulting in unconsciousness. 

“Don’t worry To-”

“He wasn’t fucking lying!” I scream, cutting of Arthur’s supporting words. 

Without having to give the order, both Arthur and John eye each other before leaping out of the door and scrambling to the exit; I however, remain glued to the floor, my arm still extended and pointing the gun forward. 

“Fuck!” I yell out loud, tossing the gun aimlessly into the corner. 

In the midst of the mental chaos, a thought erupts from me and I leap outside of the room to locate Finn but find I am met with Polly “He’s already gone to her,” She admits quietly. 

“You let him undo you Thomas,” Polly continued bitterly.

“Shut up, Poll”

“I warned you he would and now, look what’s happened! Never has a man become so disentangled Thomas Shelby, so on edge and blind to the behaviour of a man, we barely knew existed!” Polly screamed, her tears now beginning to fall. 

Then without any hesitation, a hand collides with my cheek; it doesn’t surprise me, but it catches me of guard, so I stumble ever so slightly before closing my eyes. 

“Call Inspector Jack, let him know we have something for him and that it’s urgent. Then get the girls and find out who the fuck Mosley is, I want information by the end of the day.”

The acknowledgement from Polly isn’t there, instead I am offered stony silence and a sickening gaze - with a snap, she turns onto her heel and wanders away, leaving me with a motionless Edward.  
Slowly, I allow the days antics to settle in my mind and as I gaze, my eyes lingering on the unconscious figure of Edward, my hand slips into my right pocket and plays with the crown.  
In due time, a ticking clock reveals itself more and more in my left ear and I find that with each flick of my fingers, my body aligns itself with the beat of the timed instrum-  
  
_Wait,_ I thought...  
Officer Jack only mentioned one body being found in the house fire... not two. Not only that, but he didn’t report any information regarding who had entered the house, nor left... did that mean that potentially Mary or Harry was still alive?  
My focus sharpened immediately and in a hasty blur, I leapt in the direction of my office, slamming the door forcefully behind me.  
Removing my coat and tossing it to the side, I walk over to my desk and position myself behind it before pulling over my phone and locating a scrap piece of paper. With bumbling fingers, I guide each digit over the needed numbers and press the handset to my ear.  
  
“Officer Jack speaking,”  
“You missed some vital information in your threat, Officer Jack," I exclaim, missing the pleasantries.  
“Mr Shelby, I trust you have more good news? My call had barely finished with Mrs Gray before you interrupted,”  
I ignore his tempting comment about Polly and immediately lay out my questions “Were there any reports of anyone arriving in the evening or leaving in the morning, from 14 Heathy Rise?”  
“Mr Shelby, those interviews are strict-”  
“Answer the fucking question!” I bluntly, cut him off.  
Officer Jack cleared his throat loudly before answering “No Mr Shelby, there wasn’t..”  
“We’re there any reports of concern regarding any noise?” I fire away.  
Again, Jack coughed before pausing “No, there weren’t,”  
“And can you be certain that your men thoroughly investigated the scene, from bottom to top?”  
“I will always vouch for my men’s performance, Mr Shelby. My confidence-“  
“It baffles me Officer Jack that somehow a blaze the size of this, somehow went amiss without your knowing...what about the neighbours?”  
Officer Jack was growling now “All neighbours were briefly interviewed Thomas Shelby and all displayed the same bewilderment that led to our greater frustration,”  
“That is all Officer Jack!” I answer before hanging up the phone.  
  
Allowing the moment to sink in, I remove a cigarette from the draw to my right and take my tongue across the upper half of the filter before sitting it into my mouth.  
Initially, when I first approached the burnt scene, I saw it as impossible that an event could take place so smoothly...that was until I recalled reading a news article a year ago.  
Before Harry and Mary Smith moved into the house, a man named Christopher Dickinson resided there...an individual who was unbearably paranoid.  
What the article seemed to focus on mostly was that Christopher’s certain issues had caused him to prepare for the inevitable, which led him to confess that if ever the time arise... he could surely escape unhindered because of the tunnel that he dug, which led to the town hall.  
This alone can easily provide a perfect scene for the perfect disaster, no interruptions, no worries, no witnesses, no secrets and no additional planning.  
It was perfect and I was enraged.  
  
In one swift movement, my arm glides to the side and I send the contents of my desk flying; colliding with the objects beside and beneath them, papers, tumblers, stationery and more erupt around the room, sending a sickening crash to my ears.  
I let out a roar of anguish before clenching my fists and slamming them against the desk beneath; I then do it again and again and again.  
When the pain finally becomes too much, I storm over to the corner of the room to further distract my head and scramble through my coat. I seek the right pocket which holds the crown and as my fingers graze the small metal, I yank it out and make my way back to my desk.  
Then so wonderfully delicately, I stare fondly at the minuscule object and place it in the centre of my work area, before taking my right hand and wiping my face clear of the fallen tears.  
  
I wait for a moment and then wait another, because suddenly I become so itchy and irritated by a thought that I had already reached; everything was so collectively scheduled and precise that it caused you to be blissfully ignorant.  
Then, in one swift annihilating wave, a battleship full of thoughts sunk my confidence as well as my cheeks; upon the day Charlie was killed, he was wearing Veronica’s waistcoat. On the day I received an anonymous tip about my men, the telegram showcased a crown. On the day of the boxing match, it was Finn who said to memorise the entire layout of the venue, because Veronica had suggested it. It was how I’d gotten out alive.  
It was things, tiny tiny things, but they were everywhere. She was everywhere.  
How much more had I not seen?

The small piece of metal didn’t signify a threat at all; much to the police’s dismay that is and perhaps Inspector Campbell’s, I thought.…it was in fact, a reminder, a trigger and a memory.  
Veronica was and had been there, but she wasn’t telling me directly.  
I owed her far more than I ever knew, and she had never held it against me.  
  
Inhaling a large stagnant breath, I stand to my full height and stride in the direction of my abandoned coat; pulling it off the floor by the right sleeve, I slip on the material before throwing open my office door.  
However, I come to halt when Officer Jack appears in front of me.  
“Mr Shelby, what a pleasant surprise this is!”  
His sarcasm almost oozes out of his every orifice and it takes a great deal for me to not back hand him right there. But I don’t.  
Mainly because situated behind him is Polly and she looks unappealing as well thoroughly pissed off “Edward will now remain in our custody and will no longer be your issue Mr Shelby. I ask that you and your men, leave their grudges in the places they were made.”  
  
Aggravatingly slow, Officer Jack placed his hat back upon his head before turning and nodding to Polly in goodbye. For a moment all that could be heard was the annoying clicks of his shoes as they slapped on the wooden floor beneath “I need to leave,” I announce abruptly, whilst slamming the office door behind me.  
Thankfully, our normal standard of chaos had resumed in the shop, shattering the thoughts of this morning’s awkward interruption and quietly, I appreciate how it drowns out the fact, Polly doesn’t even try to call after me as I once again, leave the betting shop.  
  
The cold air I’m introduced to grazes my face abruptly, resulting in a sting that I don’t approve off but brush of quickly. With panting breaths and hurried feet, I whip around a number of people that have taken to the streets, in order to be guided home and as I brush and bang against a number of people, I see it as stupid that I didn’t decide on my car as the mode of transport.  
“Move!” I yell aggressively.  
People suddenly dash to the side as my yell makes them jump in genuine fear and as they do this, I take the opportunity to increase my speed, all whilst trying to remember what Finn told me.  
I knew where I was going but suddenly, in the rapid haze of departing home, my memory sabotages any coherency.  
It’s the house on Rookery lane, Tom. Veronica has some of Mary’s favourite flowers in the upstairs window… Lilies! Did you know they mean restored innocence after death? 

Immediately, my eyes shoot upwards and scour every window; I see photo’s, laundry, drawn curtains and more. But no flowers. No lilies.  
This realisation causes me to increase my pace and I realize that there is a dull ache forming in the balls of my feet, running in oxfords was perhaps not wise, I thought.  
But I’m ignorant anyway. 

It’s only when I merely distract myself with this thought, does my shoulder collides with someone else’s, resulting in a dreadful fall.  
Stumbling to the ground, my body goes awry, and I grasp at anything that might pause or decrease my fall, but there is nothing.  
Instead, my left knee cracks against the pavement, sending an overwhelmingly sharp pain to my hip, whilst my upper body is launched forward, resulting in the left side of my jaw colliding with the stone below.  
I’m shocked into oblivion.  
In the time I finally come to a halt, my eyes blur over, and a loud whistle erupts between my ears; at this moment, all responding sensors in my body depart, and I am left with a minimal feeling.  
I know that I am cold, and I know that there is a pain but the slight adrenalin rush, which was created by my fall, has entirely eradicated the possibility of identifying my situation.  
So I wait.  
I wait until the sounds of my breath can be heard over the whistling. I wait until I can finally feel the slight bruising beneath my left arm, due to the fall. I wait until I hear someone calling my name and I shock my self awake.

Launching myself upwards, I bring my feet beneath me and line them up with my hips before lowering my center of gravity in preparation… However, I find instantly, I wobble and collapse into a brick wall that is to my right. 

The man who shouted my name is stood just over to my left and I watch as he curves his body, to peer at my state further. However, I pause his efforts by talking “Veronica!” I announce before continuing “Where is she?”

“Who, Mr. Shelby?” 

The voice which responded showed clear signs of confusion and possible unknowing, but I don’t take that as answer “Veronica! Where is she? She is with my younger brother, Finn!”  
I become suddenly mindful that I am yelling when surprisingly, the stranger has to take a step back, seemingly wincing “There’s no one on this street called Veronica Mr Shelby!” 

When I don’t blurt out another question, the stranger offers me another look and only when his back is turned to me, do my eyes finally offer me a clear view of him and those around – people were giving me a wide berth…multiple beings were distant, offering me a narrowed look which only displayed discontentment. 

When my disorientation reduces to a manageable level, I allow my eyes to gaze up once more and as I very steadily gaze from left to right, I locate them: lilies!

“Move!” I announce before projecting myself forward.  
I wobble recklessly across the road with no hesitation, thus resulting in a collection of beeps and angry shouts, from those whose journey I had now paused.  
My sight is set on the door which was painted a very deep red and I intend to rap my right fist onto the wooden material…however I fall through instead, because the door is slightly open.

My jaw collides with the ground again and I emit an unbearable yelp, but I don’t wait…I don’t let the pain rust my thoughts or deprive me of any more minutes.  
I’ve wasted too much time already, I thought.  
I wobble to my full height and continue to thrust forward, my feet barely beneath me before I walk forward because finally, I see her. I see Veronica and she is poised, her left side to me and her gun raised. 

“Veronica!” I exclaim. 

She doesn’t look at me.  
She doesn’t blink.  
Fuck it, she doesn’t even palpitate.  
Instead, she keeps her eyes forward and as I stumble and then slightly ripple because of my dwindling strength, I make my way around the adjoining kitchen door and finally saw what she was transfixed by.  
It was my brother Arthur, restrained to a chair and, unforgivingly, he was beaten black and blue.

“What-what are you doing?” I stuttered out. 

Instead of answering my question, Veronica does something completely surprising; she clicks on her safety, places her weapon back into its holster and pulls out a chair from beneath the kitchen table “Sit down, Thomas,” She demands. 

I ignore her and put a foot forward to head to Arthur, yet before my eyes blink and have the chance to refocus, Veronica already has her gun pointed in my direction “Let me make this incredibly clear, any delegations of mine which are ignored result in your brother’s imminent death.” 

Instantly, I raise my hands upwards and with no further objections, I let my body mould into the chair below and only then do I understand, how much my body required support.  
My body loudly announces its satisfaction by emitting a groan and for a moment, I let my body curl in on itself, pleased with the elation I’m offered. My ears however are delivered information, via Veronica’s mouth “You know before he left, Finn told me you would probably be about 30 minutes; to figure it out that is, especially after what Edward said,” 

“Where’s Finn?” I mumble out. 

“He’s safe,” She bluntly responds. 

“Mary?”

Veronica causes my ears to almost lift as she delivers a melodious laugh “Oh Thomas, I won’t answer that for you,” 

With my head still bent down, I am unaware that Veronica is in slow approach, yet when she arrives, she hands me something warm; wrapping my fingers around the beverage, I momentarily bask in the thought that her fingers are bizarrely soft.  
“What is-”

“It’s tea, shut up and drink it, Thomas,” She orders. 

As soon as her words come to an end, Arthur lets out a retching groan and I almost smile stupidly as it reminds me of Veronica’s previous statement; not caring for the liquid inside, only the brother to my left, I slightly tipper the mug towards my mouth and allow the warmth to completely enrapture me.  
My trust is left dangling as strangely, my body is offered an easy breath and…a clearer mind.  
With that peaceful offering, my eyes narrow onto Veronica who is now sat opposite me, her eyes unmoving “Whatever Arthur did, I’ll pay you off,”

The shift, in contrast, was frightening; the laughter which once glided of Veronica’s lips, suddenly became strangled and trapped in the air, as her facial features contorted in such a way, it seemed she was suddenly possessed.  
She quickly became the epitome of smoke; dam hard to catch with your bare hands but suffocating if you stuck around too long trying to do so. 

“You will not pay for your brothers’ actions, he will,” Veronica spat out. 

“I can make this all go away.”

Veronica’s response was almost deathly quiet, and it was as if a beating heart to seized in aid to hear it; I watch as her lips purse around the words, almost coddling and nurturing the syllables which slipped out “Your brothers’ stupidity nearly cost Mary’s life.” 

I am left clueless once more and my mind wanders back to the comment which Polly delivered not so long ago, had I really been rendered so blind? Had my brain been so squabbled that I didn’t even draw upon my brother’s mistake?

“You and your family have a tendency to leave bloody footprints wherever you go Mr Shelby and I want you to stop doing so. Not only is it leaving you vulnerable, but it is setting you up for further attacks and I have to clean up the fucking mess,” Veronica spat again.

With quick hands, Veronica removed the now empty mug from my hands and poured yet more delicious liquid inside; with delightful elegance, she placed the mug back into my hands and sat opposite me once more. 

“Whatever he did-“

“It is not just what he did, it’s what you did as well Thomas Shelby – your ignorance towards his problems have landed you in the situation you are now,” She explains before continuing “Keep drinking.”  
But I ignore her request because my eyes are fixed on Arthur “You were going to kill him, weren’t you?”

“I was, but then Finn walked in and asked me not to,” She confessed, a softness illuminating her cheeks ever so slightly. 

I furrow my eyebrows in surprise before allowing the expression to fill my features “You told Finn?”

Veronica laughed, out loud and freely “Told him? Thomas, he figured it out before he walked in through the dam door; he followed you to Mary’s house this morning, he heard everything Jack said, returned and earwigged all of Edward’s conversation, before making it here and asking for forgiveness for what Arthur had done,”

The tone of Veronica’s word was relentless and painfully unforgiving…suddenly the idea of losing Arthur, became inevitable. 

“It was Arthur who caused something to happen to Mary…” I admitted aloud. 

Veronica sarcastically clapped her hands once and then twice before slamming them onto the table “Your brother saw it as wise to introduce himself to Harry! Kindly mentioning that he had a small aspiration to win Mary over…” She spat out venomously before continuing “How wonderful must it have been for Mary Smith, to have had to crawl out of her home, with 3 broken ribs, a black eye, and swollen face?” 

The atmosphere turned bleak and now, as I draw my eyes to Veronica’s, I say “My brother must pay for his actions…” 

Veronica nodded silently, not uttering a single word. 

“He will not leave this house until I bid it. He will forever owe me until I release him, and he will follow my lead until I dismiss him, is that completely understood?” 

I nod without words yet leave my eyes holding Veronica “Why is it then you continued to save us? To save me all this time?” I ask daringly.

Veronica tilts her head to the right unbearably slow and whilst doing so, she glided her eyes along my shoulders, up my neck and around my forehead “I give you the answer, I gave you when we first communicated at The Garrison; I cared to save a young boy. It just so happens; he’s got you attached to him.” 

It was a sharp realization, one that consisted of my neck being forever beneath Veronica’s foot until she saw fit; my blindness had caused us to fall, Arthur’s arrogance to trap us and a young boy to save us.  
“And what is it that you want me to tell the police about the issue that lies between two houses?” I question, my fingers now tapping on the empty mug. 

Veronica now hands me an effortless smile which envelops her entirety “You will deal with it without so much as mentioning my name Mr Shelby; a man in your line of business surely doesn’t lack the ability to try to cover things up.”

“You leave me no choice,”

She retorts immediately “Nor did you, Thomas Shelby.” 

This time, Veronica moves away and prepares herself her own cup of tea; taking her time, she pours the liquid and grabs a teaspoon before twirling it into the steaming beverage, ensuring a quiet tinkle emits and fills the room.  
Whilst doing this, I allow myself permission to take her in; her body is long and is delightfully curvaceous. Her strength shows as the muscles in her body protrude through her clothes, giving the material she wore something to cling onto and it did so with its last breath.  
She was so strong, and it was frowned upon. But for some reason, the idea of her being able to dismantle me in a short movement, completely captured my groin and sent it to oblivion. 

Slowly, I lean forward and place the mug onto the table in front of me, before knotting my hands together and allowing my fingers to lay beside the other.  
Naturally, my eyes come across Arthur who is slowly lulling from side to side, his mind and body in a deep sleep whilst I sit beside him absentmindedly. 

“How can I trust that he will remain alive whilst he is here?” I whisper.

She whispers her retort also “You have no other choice but to, Thomas Shelby.”


End file.
